Travel Day

Posted on January 18, 2010

5


2:16pm: I’m sitting on the train as it pulls away, waving goodbye to my family. I whip out my iPod, hoping to drown my sorrows with really bad anime.

2:19pm: The toddler three rows in front of me apparently wishes to drown his sorrows by drowning the sound of my TV show, which I can’t hear over his wailing, despite my noise-cancelling headphones.

2:42pm: My iPod dies. Awesome.

3:12pm: I lug my copious amount of crap off the train and directly onto the bus. Woot.

3:34pm: Oh my God what the hell is taking so long? Let’s get this miserable journey started already.

3:47pm: The bus takes off, at long last. I reach for my iPod, but, remembering its premature deceasion, pull out my book.

5:15pm: Goodness gracious, The His Dark Materials trilogy by Phillip Pullman is very good. Although, I wouldn’t recommend reading the ending on a crowded public bus, as severe emotional reaction is sure to ensue.

5:16pm: Good thing I brought another book.

5:17pm: Oh Weasley Twins and your shenanigans!

6:02pm: We drive through Rohnert Park; I can see the top of Hayley’s apartment building. Just a few weeks ago, I was here, driving around in Jimi’s car and having the time of my life. And now I’m on this bus.

7:37pm: The last meal I ate was homemade crepes at home, and now I’m choking down the chunk of iceberg lettuce drenched in ranch dressing that is the pathetic excuse for a Dollar Menu side salad. Awesome.

7:50pm: Oh God, so nauseous. I try to turn on the air, but it seems to be broken.

8:04pm: I’m trying to fall asleep in that oh-so comfortable sitting upright, cricked-neck, butt-numb, cramped-legs position.

8:05pm: Either a seat is falling apart piece by piece, or someone is scraping a rusty rake across a window. Repeatedly. And loudly. A little voice in my head urges me to find those responsible and kill them slowly.

8:17pm: The entire bus seems to be asleep. All the lights are off, and everyone is silent, except of course for the rake-scraper.

8:19pm: I’m finally able to tune out the noise, whatever it is, and I begin to drift off to sleep.

8:21pm: The air vent, which previously didn’t work, roars loudly to life, blowing me with an icy jet stream. The voice in my head pipes up again.

9:08pm: Is it just me, or did Professor Umbridge get off kind of easy?

10:32pm: I’m soundly asleep when someone’s cell phone goes off directly behind me. I consider heeding the demands of the little voice.

10:46pm: I might as well enjoy the scenery. W00t, black.

10:48pm: What was that thing we sped by, back there?

10:49pm: It was my will to live.

11:02pm: Ohmigod ohmigod we’re here. Finally. I would be excited, if I weren’t in such a bad mood.

11:03pm: And by “bad,” I mean homicidal.

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