When I got there, what I found was a dark lot with one car and several yellow school buses. In this lot was a shack labeled "Bus Terminal". Not only was waiting in a closed terminal lot in an industrial neighborhood a bad idea, but seeing a parked car with a bed-sheet covered lump in each front seat was a done deal. I was outta there!!!
I drove to Des Moines, assuming that a terminal in a major city would have "living" people around. After my fifty mile drive down I35, I found another closed bus station with thirty-minute parking only. What did I do next? I called the Greyhound operator and begged him to let me drive further south to the next terminal to hop on the bus with somewhere to leave my car, although I was under the impression that there was a parking attendant at Ames. He said I have to start from my original departure.
I am crying at this point reminding him that it is 2am and I don't know what to do with my car. He said I have to go back to Ames, pay them ten bucks, and take the next bus out…at five pm the next day. What? He was apologetic and so but he had the nerve to say "You missed the bus." Um...no. I was ahead of the bus! I was so upset, I was about the fork up five hundred bucks to ride the Amtrak in Kansas City and get a refund. Get this: Because I bought the tickets 14 days in advance, there is no refund. No way! I cried and begged to this man. It was hopeless. I gave up Greyhound then and there. I was never to do it again.
I had left work early, drove hundreds of miles, and shacked up in a hotel to get a seven hour check-in. Goodbye cheap-rate!! Honestly the only value I get from that experience is this blog. Please take the advice you can get from this and ask me questions if you shall choose to ride the bus across three thousand miles across the country.
For the past month, people giggle and suggest I fly or take the train. Instead, I thought I'd make it an adventure out of it…and more affordable one at that. I've been warned of shady characters and smelly environments. Ironically, I made some friends and smelled some fried chicken. (Thanks bus driver for those pit-stops!)
With the exception of the riding down Rocky Mountains in the front seat with no seatbelt at seventy miles per hour, my ride was a complete blast. For one third of the trip, I got to sit alone. Yes! The second third, I got to ride with a well-behaved toddler. How luck was I? The final third, I got to sit with a teenaged boy with whom we watched movies together with both our DVD potables. Sweeeet!
So, taking the bus is not all that bad. But, yes Dad, you were right…next time I'll take the train.
