trvlgs

In Sioux Falls, we switched to a Jefferson Lines bus; in case you ever ride the Greyhound, “Jefferson Lines” just means “don’t get on this bus.” The seats are about half as wide, it smells like sweat and corpses, and the whole damn machine is falling apart, which drills into you a nascent fear that the wheels will fall off at any point and pretty it much guarantees you’ll never get any sleep worth a damn, due to the useless, broken ceiling tiling slapping around like garbage lids.

With additional boarders and with the Italians taking up half the bus, I knew I’d no longer have two seats to myself. And like a stupid person, I was sort of hoping that a new group of girls-my-age would sit near me, because one of them was cute and as we all know, the bus is an ideal place to meet girls. And there they sat. I don’t think any of them knew each other before they got on the bus; led by some satanic force, they all just met each other, and then they met me, and then Satan made it their mission to make Sioux Falls to Wyoming an experience so obnoxious that I texted David that I’m probably going to ask if it’s possible to take a later bus, and potentially lose a day in Seattle. With my schedule as it was, I was already going to spend more time on the bus than in the city.