It occurs to me that I have forgotten to mention a few colourful characters that we have come across in the various bus stations along the way. I have mentioned a couple in some posts, but I feel that I should add in the last few before I forget. Where do I start...?
- Crazy meth-guy who was singing in the toilet when James was using the urinal, then came over to us to ask us if we were playing cards (we were clearly playing cards) and then asked me (in a crazy voice plus stare) if James had cheated when I told him that he had beaten me. Again, this was in the toilets.
- There was the Mexican lady with big glasses who made a bee-line for me in order to ask me if I could watch the door for her whilst she went to use a cubical in the gents as the ladies was being cleaned. I only assumed this is what she requested as she was mumbling very broken English. And granted, one of the stalls had no lock on it. ONE. The other three were fine. I still don’t know what I would have said whilst guarding the gents if someone had wanted to use the toilet...especially if it was crazy meth-guy. I think that saying something like, “No, you can’t use the toilet because there is a Mexican woman currently using the one stall that has no lock on it” would have made ME look like the mental one.
- The old lady who sat next to me (who I tried to ignore for as long as possible) who had been a medical receptionist who had strange gloves on to help her arthritis. She was 84 and was just heading back from Las Vegas after getting married for the 4th time.
- Choose a number between 1 and 10. That is at least the number of weird men in yellow t-shirts we have seen scurrying around the various terminals.
Sadly, depending on how you look at the situation, these are all true stories. And merely one of the added “bonuses” of Going Greyhound! Fortunately, the drivers can be quite amusing, if they speak at all, as they all have to give a list of rules and regulations that must be adhered to on the journey. This includes the total ban on alcohol and drugs on board, listening to loud music, shouting into your cell phone, and the use of any curse words.
Fortunately for us the driver who turned up for the bus to Flagstaff seemed reasonably helpful, adorned in all manner of silver jewellery, including a belt buckle the size of a small dinner plate. Thankfully there was room on the bus for Tim and James, and we managed to get two seats together, after turfing out a girl who was trying to cover two seats whilst her mate did the same in the seat behind. Sleep was needed, but sadly we were unable to get a decent amount due to various phones bleeping into the night, some girl with a dirty smokers cough, and the two girls behind us allegedly sleep-talking (I only have James’ word to go by on this, and it could easily have been a dream, but I’ll keep it in for good measure anyway).
- Crazy meth-guy who was singing in the toilet when James was using the urinal, then came over to us to ask us if we were playing cards (we were clearly playing cards) and then asked me (in a crazy voice plus stare) if James had cheated when I told him that he had beaten me. Again, this was in the toilets.
- There was the Mexican lady with big glasses who made a bee-line for me in order to ask me if I could watch the door for her whilst she went to use a cubical in the gents as the ladies was being cleaned. I only assumed this is what she requested as she was mumbling very broken English. And granted, one of the stalls had no lock on it. ONE. The other three were fine. I still don’t know what I would have said whilst guarding the gents if someone had wanted to use the toilet...especially if it was crazy meth-guy. I think that saying something like, “No, you can’t use the toilet because there is a Mexican woman currently using the one stall that has no lock on it” would have made ME look like the mental one.
- The old lady who sat next to me (who I tried to ignore for as long as possible) who had been a medical receptionist who had strange gloves on to help her arthritis. She was 84 and was just heading back from Las Vegas after getting married for the 4th time.
- Choose a number between 1 and 10. That is at least the number of weird men in yellow t-shirts we have seen scurrying around the various terminals.
Sadly, depending on how you look at the situation, these are all true stories. And merely one of the added “bonuses” of Going Greyhound! Fortunately, the drivers can be quite amusing, if they speak at all, as they all have to give a list of rules and regulations that must be adhered to on the journey. This includes the total ban on alcohol and drugs on board, listening to loud music, shouting into your cell phone, and the use of any curse words.
Fortunately for us the driver who turned up for the bus to Flagstaff seemed reasonably helpful, adorned in all manner of silver jewellery, including a belt buckle the size of a small dinner plate. Thankfully there was room on the bus for Tim and James, and we managed to get two seats together, after turfing out a girl who was trying to cover two seats whilst her mate did the same in the seat behind. Sleep was needed, but sadly we were unable to get a decent amount due to various phones bleeping into the night, some girl with a dirty smokers cough, and the two girls behind us allegedly sleep-talking (I only have James’ word to go by on this, and it could easily have been a dream, but I’ll keep it in for good measure anyway).
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| On yet another Greyhound marathon |
We arrived at Flagstaff at 4:30am to find the dozen empty seats waiting for us inside the smallest bus station ever – you could spit from one end to the other, not that we tried. Incidentally, Flagstaff wins the award for best toilet(s) so far as I didn’t mind putting my feet on the floor whilst getting changed into my travelling gear. And so we settled down for a couple more hours of kip whist we waited for our connecting bus at 2:30pm. We settled, but we were advised by “Rob” that the station will close at 5am as he finishes his shift then. Oh. So he advised us to head to the nearby Denny’s that was 24/7 and grab some breakfast or something. And since he was shutting in a few minutes he could give us a ride there in his truck. The “us” I just referred to was myself, James, the elderly retired Chinese man who had befriended us in the Albuquerque terminal and Gabriele, an Italian chap touring the states for two months, by couchsurfing his way round. The truck was an open-backed pick-up with one seat for the driver and one for another passenger. So me, James and Gabriele clambered into the back and we set off for Denny’s!
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| Ummmmmm......Flagstaff |
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