Riding the Greyhound
Must remember to bring my own airfreshener. Smells affect me more than general cleanliness. Just make it smell good and we are fine. I am the minority--female and white. I feel subdued, realizing I hold on to my middleclassness more than I wished. The buses are nice--much nicer than the bus stops and their cold black grate chairs. Unfortunately, the bus stops are where you get stranded at. My bus doesn't show and I spend midnight to 6am heating up those cold black grate chairs, talking to a couple brave souls who interrupt my nose-in-book routine.
One is a friendly Greyhound worker, who simply takes the book out of my hands to read the cover, and who's eyebrows raise as he reads "A Year of Biblical Womanhood" (he is about as surprised as I am that I like reading it). He pats my head and says he is proud of me. Normally he sees trashy books and pretends to read aloud the title "How to Kill Your Husband." But not for me. "So are you?" He asks, "Going to kill your husband?"
"I don't plan on it." I blush, willing the pink off my cheeks, "When I do marry." "Well what are you waiting for?" He asks. "For him to finish college" is my oversimplified answer, to which he chuckles out something about not waiting too long and "Lucky fellow."
The other conversation resulted in recieving Maudi Gras beads from a traveling musician who had missed his bus to go hear his girlfriend sing at the Grand Ol' Opre. "I'd better do something aweful nice for her on Valentine's Day!" he says, to which i heartily agree, and then wonder why he asked me out for drinks in the next sentence. No, I tell him, I have a date with my blanket.
In Cinncinati, I met a fellow Indianapolis-ian who tells me somberly, "I just can't wait to smell Indianapolis." I nod, thinking of my bed more than my nose. The huge snowflakes fall perfectly, drifting and dusting everything without the intrusive wind that ruins the winter season for me.
By the time I've finished people watching, dozing, and "Biblical Womanhood," the snow is gone and we've entered Indiana. I am four hours later than scheduled, but surprisingly rested. Some thing you can't control. So you just ride.