Strange Days And The Bus

I've seen some strange things this week.

Coming home the other day, a pigeon flew right at my head. I mean that. The pigeon was at my exact head level, coming right at me with its wings flapping frantically. It's the only thing to ever happen to me in the city that has stopped me in my tracks. I saw the bird's coal-black* little eyes, and he meant me harm. For some reason, he aborted his death mission and veered off at the last second. I felt the wind as he passed. What is up with all the animals with murder on their minds?

Today, I picked up my dry cleaning. Usually, there is nothing strange to see at the dry cleaners. I imagine they keep all the strange stuff out of sight, somewhere in the back. This day, however, I saw something strange among the garments already cleaned and hanging: a Doug Williams jersey. That's right, number seventeen of the burgundy and gold. I love the Redskins, and I love Doug Williams...but I've never dry cleaned my sports jerseys. In fact, one time I purposely cut my sports jersey so my then girlfriend could wear it in a sexy, off one shoulder kind of way**.

Anyway, I'm headed to New York tomorrow. I'll be visiting my girlfriend, who I miss very much. I love going to see her in the city.

Getting there isn't as fun. At first, despite being warned otherwise, I rode the Chinatown Bus. The first time it was terrific. It left on time and arrived on time. The next three times weren't as punctual. By about an average of two hours. Plus, I heard they smuggle drugs on those buses***.

So I switched to Greyhound. With the e-fare to NYC, it comes to only six dollars more than the Chinatown Bus and it's much more reliable. Since it goes to Port Authority, I'm just one quick ride to Grand Central and a twenty minute ride on the six train uptown to get to my girlfriend's apartment.

Bus rides still aren't that pleasant, regardless of the logo on the side of the bus. You might see a merry Peter Pan flying care-free on the side of a bus named Tinkerbell, but on the inside people are trying to sleep uncomfortably while Yours, Mine and Ours is playing on tiny TVs. With that in mind, here are some tips for your survival:

1. Buy your tickets online. I have never done otherwise, so maybe getting in that long line and buying them in person is an ecstatic experience. Yeah, anyway, you can get some good deals online.
2. Bring snacks and drinks. Your bus might make a pit stop. It might not. It's really the bus driver's decision. And you don't want to be at the bus driver's mercy.
3. Arrive early. You might get an earlier bus. You know that time printed on your ticket? Nobody at Greyhound gives a fuck what it says. Day? Who cares? They care about one thing: is the destination correct? Good, then get on the bus. I have used tickets three hours and three days late.
   
4. Get The Window Seat. We all want the window seat. It's easier to sleep there. Even if you aren't sleeping it's good to know you could, plus you know the poor guy next to you can't. And that makes you a better person than them. The only way I can recommend getting a window seat is to follow tip three.
5. Pray Someone Other Than The Bus Driver Knows How To Get To Your Next Stop. True story. The bus left DC to make a quick stop at the Silver Spring Greyhound station before heading to New York. 30 minutes later, the bus driver gets on the PA and says "Does anyone on this bus know where the Geryhound station in Silver Spring is?" Luckily, a nice woman on the bus knew where it was. Though it took a couple of times to get the driver to go in the right direction, eventually we arrived at the Silver Spring station. THEN, on the way out of Silver Spring the driver missed the exit to get off of Colesville Road and onto 495/95 north. You can't take the south exit and loop around, so he had to make a three-point turn on Colesville Road. The back of the bus did spotting duty, letting the bus driver know that people had stopped to let him complete his turn. We all cheered when he managed to take the right exit, and get us to New York on time.

Well, I better get packing. And praying.

*People who know me are probably wondering how I know what "coal-black" looks like having never seen coal. I had a lot of crayons as a kid. Seriously, they had color for everything. Tumbleweed, anyone?

**It was a Stephen Davis jersey, bought the year before he left. My brother owns Champ Bailey, Laveranues Coles, and Lavar Arrington jerseys. All bought the year before they left. I have a feeling we will never own any Clinton Portis, Santana Moss, or Antwan Randle El jerseys just for the sake of team chemistry.

*** If anyone from a Chinatown Bus company cares to sue, I will retract my statement. In return for drugs.