Going Greyhound

It was the summer of one of my college years. My friend had asked me to spend part of the summer with her. We had a plan to work for the same company during those months. So, while not technically a vacation, it was a vacation from school, and traveling alone was (at that time) more exciting than it was scary. I was looking forward to it, until I shared my Greyhound plans with my coworkers. They started saying things such as “Please don’t! People disappear on those buses!” 

Well, the ticket had already been purchased. What they said worried me some, but I wasn’t about to back out of it! I decided to just pray about it. I prayed, “Dear Lord, please just let me sit next to some little old man or something.” Those were my exact words.

The day arrived. My bus was late. Very late. “What a fabulous way to start,” I thought.

At last the bus pulled up to the station and I found two empty seats. I sat in one, put my headphones on, and listened to “Learn French.” Some time later, the bus stopped and more people got on the bus. I realized that the seat next to mine would soon be needed, so I moved my belongings from it. You may have already guessed it - a little (and I mean little) old man came by and said “Mind if I bother you to Bakersfield?” He had a very southern accent, and he spoke very slowly, with every word drawled out. It was extremely charming, and for me, a bit comical. Well, of course I didn’t mind. Here he was, the answer to my prayer! We visited, and I learned that he had had a few rough days. His vehicle had broken down. He’d gone to get to another vehicle to tow the first, but it had broken down also. So, now he was traveling on a bus. I had no idea if he was making it up or not, but it didn’t matter. He was friendly and harmless.

When we stopped in Bakersfield, I walked into the bus station, very proud of myself for making the trip. I walked to the payphones to check in with my parents as I had promised, and then I went to the cafe (if can rightly be called that) to wait for my next bus. It would be about an hour, but judging by the lack of promptness by the first, I figured I had closer to two. In the cafe I started visiting with a guy who said he had gotten away from the Lord, and that he believed it was partly because of his music choices. I gave him a Christian CD. This is only a small part of the story, and I mention it only because it had a part in making me late for my bus.

“Last call for bus number X”

“What?!” I thought with panic. “It’s on time?!”  I really don’t know why I thought if the first was late, all would be late - such is the mind of someone who had never gone anywhere, I guess. 

I raced through the bus station and to the door. All of the buses were lined up and ready to go. I begged an attendant to wait and that I would show him my ticket.   By the time I got on the bus, I had earned myself angry glares from the other passengers. The little old man saw me and gave me a sympathetic smile. The bus was crowded, but there was a seat next to  a girl about my age. We would sit together for most of the rest of the trip. 

Sometime in the night, the bus driver pulled over for a bathroom break. I heard somebody mumble, “Is he really going to let them get on?” The bus driver gave the call for everyone to get back on, and two new guys (who were drunk) got on as well. There were two empty seats. One was at the front of the bus. The other was about halfway down and directly across the aisle from me. 

Well, before the bus even started moving, the guy at the front stood up and said, “Where’s my dog? Where’s my dog?”

And the guy next to me started barking!

I got my headphones out again and did my best to ignore my surroundings. 

Time passed and we stopped for another break. I was still on the bus. I heard a couple of guys talking. “I wonder if he’ll let them back on.”

 Knowing they had to be speaking of the barking guy and his master, I turned around and said, “Do you think he will?”

I hadn’t meant to sound scared but maybe I had, because the great big guy who answered me said, “I don’t know.  Why? Are you afraid of him?”

“Well, not really…” I began, but didn’t finish.

“If he lays one hand on you, I’ll -”

He then used some strong language that I won’t repeat here. It was good to know however, that this muscular man was there and that he was willing to step in if necessary. 

The bus started again, and the driver made the two switch places. So at least the barking guy wasn’t right next to me. As we were driving along, I heard something that I had heard the entire trip. It was someone moaning, “I want my mommy. Ohhh, I want my mommy.” Over and over again he’d repeat this.

I had so far resisted the urge to turn around, but this time I had to. My glance confirmed my fear. The very man who had promised to protect me was the man who wanted his mommy! It was a long ride to the next stop. 

We pulled into the next station late in the night. I found the line for my next bus and to my relief the little old man and the girl I’d been sitting with were also in the line. I noticed a man standing at a short distance, and it was obvious that he was waiting to introduce himself. I wasn’t too alarmed. In fact, I hoped he would come over. I was bored. I would not be bored for long.

The man stepped forward and extended his hand as he said, “Helloooo” with the accent pronounced on the end of the word. His eyes matched the pronunciation quite well. He looked a bit spacey.

I wanted to laugh, but of course I just said hi back.

We started to talk about work, and I mentioned that I worked at a daycare. This was of great interest to him. He said earnestly, “I believe that children see things. I believe that they see fairies, and that the fairies are really there.”

“Really?” I said.  (To myself I thought, “This is going to be SO entertaining!”)

“Yes, I believe that they are real. In fact, I still see them.”

“Even better than I thought” I said to myself, before I said aloud, “Wow.”

As the conversation went on, I learned that he believed in elves and that trees and rocks could talk…

“Sometimes, when I go outside, I hear everything talking at once.” he said pleasantly.

That sounded like a serious headache to me!  There was still time before we had to get on the bus, so I asked him to tell me about a time he spoke to a rock. 

“I was in class one day, and the teacher started talking about tree huggers. I raised my hand and said ‘Excuse me, sir, I am one.’ And then I felt a bad aura in the room, so I went outside and sat next to a rock and the rock spoke to me.”

I said, “What did the rock say?”

“He asked me what was wrong, and I told him, and he invited me to come in. So I went into the rock and we had a conversation.”

I don’t recall all that he said after that, but at some point (maybe he asked if I’d had a similar experience) I told him that I didn't believe in the same things, because I believed the Bible. And then things got really interesting.

He said, “Well let me tell you about the Bible.” He then went on a very strange rant. He lost me about fifteen seconds after he opened his mouth. I remember something about the far east, outer space, and gold dust. He concluded with “And that is how they came up with the story of Adam and Eve.”

A few minutes later, he told me that he had once been in the hospital with a fever of 114 degrees, and the angel Michael had told him that everything would be okay. He said that he had had the highest recorded temperature, and that in England a movie had been made about him.  

“Wow,” I said. I didn’t argue with him, as there would be no point.

It was at this time  in the conversation (we had been slowly moving forward and were nearly at the front) that a man who had been standing off to the side stepped forward and in the exact same way the rock man and said, “Helloo,” said, “It’s you,” as he extended his hand toward the rock man. He was dressed in a white peasant style top and loose rainbow striped pants. He had a wide sash wrapped around his waist. In his hand was a ukulele. The rock man accepted his handshake, though he looked surprised. They spoke in quiet voices, but from what I gathered, they’d once met at a convention of some sort.

A few minutes later, we got on the bus, and to my delight, the rock man and the ukulele man sat together in the seat in front of me. I’d hoped to hear some music, but that didn’t happen. Instead, I saw the rock man mutter some words and move his hands across the other man’s face.

The rest of the bus ride was uneventful. Almost what you’d call normal. It was my one and only experience with Greyhound - my trip home was on a plane!