As everyone knows, Yelp and other review sites spew lies created by irate individuals after a miserable experience probably due, in part, to their incomprehension of rules or refusal to listen to instructions. However, on Tuesday night, I had utterly convinced myself that I’d be murdered before Topeka, and covered in semen shortly thereafter. To quell my fears, I wanted to find some positive intel about the long distance bus; if not rave reviews then at least something mildly comforting. You know: “After three days, six fast food meals, and one crick in the neck that still persists a week after arriving in Duluth, I can say that Greyhound, while not glamorous, is a safe and ultimately effective way for the budget traveler to city hop in the USA.”
I found none of it. However, there were hundreds of stories about the decapitation of Tim MacLean (this lunatic story), about fatal accidents and drivers gone rogue. I transferred money to my checking, telling myself that if I saw any sign of flesh-eating fuckers, I’d jump off the bus and take a plane.
But it turns out that 24 hours on a Greyhound bus is NOT as horrible as the internet would have you believe. Sure I’m uncomfortable as fuck, and I’m starving, and I’ve been wearing the same leggings for much longer than Cosmo recommends. But I haven’t made friends, I haven’t woken up from a painful nap covered in semen, my luggage is intact, and we’re only 20 minutes behind schedule. No one has smoked meth in the bathroom, the bumper only fell off in Columbus, Ohio, once, and we’ve since gotten a new bus that has outlets and a flushing toilet and was upholstered post-WWII.
I still have 24 more hours to go. But so far, in case any other plane-spoiled budget traveler is wondering, the Greyhound isn’t that bad.
My twelfth-favorite East Coast city.
Glory fades. Greyhound lasts forever.
Welcome to Philadelphia.
Brotherly love of metal lines.
Bridge in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.