Greyhound: When Your Life Just Wasn't Interesting Enough

This is Wallene's work of art. Spot wanted to "take the bus"

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I have several stories of riding the Greyhound bus to visit my Mother in SC. For the uninitiated I do not like flying and my husband/Mother don't like me driving the long distance alone. Somehow they both decided that the Greyhound was a safer option.

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They won't let me on the bus anymore. That should tell you something.

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My favorite story is the criminal. Well, the first real, true criminal. Cops and handcuffs kind of criminal. This was the incident that started the mumblings that "uh...perhaps we should let Skippy drive...um...yeah, well....]

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The great thing about Greyhound is they stop in ALL the small out of the way small towns that you and I have never heard of. The type of town where public urination is probably legal and marrying your first cousin is [the only] an option. [I am Southern. I get to say this.]

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Tadpoles? I have seen more of small town South then I ever imagined or needed to.

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Okay, back to the criminal. I was on the bus riding from SC to VA. I had some fun seat mates around me [Marines home on leave - very nice men - Thanks guys!] and we were hanging out, chatting. When the bus stopped at the next pick up stop [a convenience store, no less - who buys a bus ticket at a Stop-and-Go?] we all rambled out to have a smoke break and a drink. The Marines were catching a different bus, but were watching out for me and mentioned that one of our new passengers looked a little shady. I didn't notice until they pointed him out.

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Yep. Middle of November and this guy was wearing khaki pants, a t-shirt and carrying his coat over his arm [the coat matched his pants in color/fabric] I shushed them and said "Oh, he is probably a landscaper or something." No, they insisted that I keep an eye on him and not sit by him.

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We all piled back on the bus - underdressed landscaper included, but the bus wasn't moving. No driver. Okay. I cracked open my book and started to read. What is a busline without delays, right?

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Oh, no, no, no...what I need to ask is what is a bus trip without the men in blue boarding the bus with our bus driver. One policeman was holding an honest-to-God "Wanted" poster and he scanned the bus and picked [ding!ding!ding!] landscaper dude.

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They handcuffed him and removed him from the bus. And we were on our way.

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Turns out he wasn't wearing his coat because the back had the initials "NCDC" [North Carolina Department of Corrections] stenciled on it and he had walked off of work duty and into a bus station, bought a ticket and had decided he was leaving via Greyhound.

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Sweet, eh?

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You would think THAT would've ended my bus riding career, but no...my Mom and husband allowed me a few more rides before I was finally stopped. Hee.