So I hopped on a greyhound bus and finally made it home. Eventually. How can one explain the experience of riding on a greyhound bus? Let me tell you. It combines many great features of other services such as:

All the anxiety and anger of lost/damaged luggage that you get at an airport!

The same slow and unreliable arrival and departure schedule as a city bus!

A staff of disgruntled postal workers to glare and grunt at your every question!

The warm company of the same transients, thieves, and addicts that you’d find in a cheap hostel.

For eleven hours! YAY!

And, by some stroke of luck, I managed to get the special bus which happened to be driven by a bus driver that likes to sing over the P.A. System. Every time we pull into a new town, he can’t simply announce the name of the place. No, no…he has to sing a few verses of folk songs first.

My only solice is that the baby seated directly behind my head only screamed and made drowning cat sounds for half the time...