I had thought about heading to San Diego on Thursday, traveling down the California coast. But, when I arrived a half hour before the 1:10 bus was to depart, I was informed that it was sold out and that the next bus would be at midnight. Instead, I opted to go to Vegas. That bus would leave at 7:50. So, after killing the afternoon walking around Seattle, I headed to the terminal.
I arrived at 7 and the line was already out the door, pouring onto the sidewalk. The Seattle Greyhound terminal is typical. The floor is brick colored tile and it is sticky. There are spills and stains that have been unattended for months. About 40% of the vending machines and phones have "out of order" signs taped to them. It is crowded and doesn't smell very good. I went to the men's room and passed by an African American man standing in front of the sinks. He had dirty clothes, a red mesh ball cap and was cradling a big oil can of Busch beer. He was talking to himself and then looked at me and mumbled something. I just proceeded to the urinal. I walked out of the bathroom and saw a woman with a cast on her foot using her good foot to push a scooter around the waiting area. It was a circus.
We wound up being over 2 hours late. People missed connections left and right. One guy was going to have to stay in Stanfield, Oregon until two the next afternoon to catch the next bus going in his direction. Everyone was given an incident report to fill out. Most people wadded it up and threw it under the seat in front of them. Some people did artwork on theirs. A couple of dutiful people handed in the form. I did not. I was tired.
The rest of the trip went smoothly, but there was a buzz on the bus, and not just the typical chemically induced buzz. This was a night we would all remember forever. Nobody got too upset about the delays. It's Greyhound and "stuff happens".