Another Bus Story

This is my second attempt at this blog. After typing for about 45 minutes I was ready to publish my thoughts… Some how during a spell check I lost the whole thing.. Therefore, understand that the second attempt will not be as good as the first. At least that is my excuse.
Also, I hope you do not tire of another bus trip saga. I lack the creativity of Sam and the vocabulary of Chad so feel already that my first attempt at this blog writing will be lacking in several respects. Anyway, here goes:
A few weeks ago I decided to do the fatherly thing and help Mike and Sam move back to Salt Lake. I had a vacation day to use and thought this was a good use of it. Anyway, after checking the cost of various fares, I decided to take the bus rather than fly. When I told one of my co-workers I was going on the bus he said “You will have a cultural experience.” I though, “How bad can it be?” and anyway this would give me a chance to work on my Book of Mormon reading…. For the in-laws, I don’t read anything much except stuff for work. When I tried to read the Book of Mormon last spring, on the trip with Chad and Jenn, I fell asleep before finishing the second chapter. So for the current challenge I decided that if I listened that would be close enough. Therefore five hours with the BOM would get me a long way.
Enough for background, now for the real deal… Grace dropped me off about 7:00 AM at the new terminal in SLC. I thought this is really great and went in with excitement almost forgetting to say good-by. When I got to the ticket counter I had my first hesitation. The lady behind the counter had a name tag on, but it was one of those with the name written in pencil on a piece of paper and taped on a tag that must have been used for everyone. Plenty of spare tape was evident. I questioned if she was going to steal my identity when I gave her my confirmation number from the internet, and she still wanted to see my credit card. You see, even if you buy tickets on line, you are not guaranteed a seat on the bus. There were clearly more people in the waiting area that would fit on one bus so I thought maybe there had to be some type of payoff. She did not say anything after looking at the information and gave me the boarding pass. (I later found out there was a bus headed north at about the same time and most of the people were getting on that bus.
I headed back to the waiting area and since there were limited seats, found the area that I thought was the least intrusive on others. I sat about two seats away from a man that looked quite normal for the bus station, and started getting my CD player ready to work. About that time he leaned over and asked my name. “Jim” I replied, and he started laughing. He just kept laughing and then started talking to himself too. As others looked at me I understood why that seat was empty. Not wanting to be impolite, I figured my best excuse was to find the restroom and get “ready” for the trip. At least it got me away from the laugher.
When I got back to the waiting area, I found a place on the floor for a while, then outside with the smokers, then back to the floor to wait for the bus to leave. At least I thought I was safe on the floor, not to far from the public telephones. As I was settling in against the wall for a back rest there starts this crying and yelling from a grown man. He was on the phone and everyone was watching when he slammed the receiver and went running out of the station. I decided my cultural experience was beginning. About that time the security guard started asking people to get in line for security check. There was not way he could keep track of who he checked, but it seemed like all were willingly subjecting themselves the a full body search. Well, not really. He had some type of wand that was a little bigger than Harry Potter’s sorcerer wand and he seemed to be trying to check for metal on people. He would also check carry on bags. When it was my turn he must have been tired because he did not even check either of my bags. That is good because I don’t like people handling my underwear.
We finally got on the bus and I was luck enough to find two seats that I could have to my self. I got the BOM going and was enjoying listening and watching the scenery outside that I never noticed when I drive. Every thing was cool until we reached our first stop, Provo. At that stop I started watching people. The first issue was finding places for the people getting on. One lady walked the entire length of the bus three times looking for a seat the finally asked the security guard on the bus if she could sit by him. He gave her a very gruff “NO” and she finally sat next to an older man. (She could have used tow seats her self) You ask why she did not sit by me? Well, just before she got on an oriental couple got on and because everyone else was too rude to stop sitting on two seats the lady sat next to me and her companion sat across the isle from her. I thought I had it made since she was not too big until she got out her knitting needles. Honest, they were at least two feet long and had been filed to a point sharper than a needle. I wondered how they got by the security check for knifes and weapons! Needless to say I scooted as far away as possible and tried not to make eye contact.
As we traveled down the road, and I became involved with the proceeding of the BOM, I started to notice some of the people in the bus. The following is a brief summary of my observations:
The 20 or 30 or 40 something girl that I prayed would not sit next to me. (She had tried to start a conversation in the bus terminal, but I had to go to the bathroom again.) She had no front teeth, her shirt was too short and she suffered from midriff hangover. She was defiantly friendly with whoever would look her way, but it turns out she may have been the most normal.
The two guys right in front of me must have had a thing for each other. Thank goodness I could not see through the seats. It just seemed like one head with a stocking cap kept trying to get closer to the other head with a stocking cap, the whole time playing like they were asleep.
In front of them was the cowboy and his girl. Normal enough if cowboys wear black converse tennis shoes with a white hat that covers all the hair except a pony tail that was about 10 inches long.
In the very back was a hiker. Hitch hiker that is, who had a back pack bigger than me. When he carried it he would walk with his body parallel to the ground and moan the whole time he was moving.
Back and to the right was one of the gangster rappers. I was not about to point out to him the sign in the bus that said to play audio devices very quietly. I decided rap is a good back ground for listening to the BOM.
In front of him is the usual east LA dude with his hat sideways etc.
Continuing the move forward is a normal looking older man sharing a seat with another lady three times his size. Strangers to each other, since she got on in Provo they seemed to carryon regular conversations except when her cell phone would ring. Again a sign that said “turn off Cell Phones”
Then there was this old man that they had to help on at the terminal, and he may have been terminal. I don’t think he knew who he was or where he was. Maybe our city fathers bought him a ticket to get him out of town.
Then the Greyhound security guard that slept the whole way to St George. He looked mean enough, but a take over would have been finished before he woke up.
By the time I had changed my CD a couple of times we were in Parowan for the obligatory stop for lunch. Very interesting… Some of the things I discovered include that the slick paper used for sitting on in public restrooms can work for TP as well. It just takes some extra effort. Since most of the people were headed to Vegas, I decided to buy the bottle of Dr Pepper that guaranteed a chance to win $1,000,000. False advertising!!!!!
Since all the seats inside were being used, I decided to eat my Taco Bell burrito outside. First I move from the pollution zone created by all the smokers to an area closer to the bus. I am standing there contemplating if I was the only normal person on the bus when the one man that I held out hope for walked over and we started to talk. “Where are you going, etc the normal small take. I say to myself.. “A normal man” so I decide to practice my socializing skills that I encourage some of my children to work on. My second question after where are you headed was, “What are you going to do in Vegas, Gamble?’ He says.’ No first I will try to find a place to stay, then tomorrow I am going to the air show.” Is that a good show? I ask. To which he replies something about hoping they bring out the stuff from AREA 51. If I remember from that classic historical film “Independence Day” Area 51 is where all the aliens are studied. He said they brought out some stuff two years ago and he is hoping for more this time…. I am saved by the bus driver returning to the bus and me saying I need to get back on.
The rest of the way I tried to speed up the BOM but that did not work. I kept away from the knitting needles and prayed I did not have to go to the bathroom. Finally, St George and I was glad to trade places with the people waiting in back of the McDonalds to get on the bus. I though I had experienced diversity, but alas this was a new cultural experience I shall not soon forget.