This
adventure is known as the time we wanted to save money and take a 16-hour bus
ride from Vancouver to Calgary . Also known as the time we lost all
ability to think rationally as human beings and thought this was a good idea.
(Trust me, it isn’t. Fork out the extra couple of hundred dollars it takes to
buy the plane ticket and thank me later.)
Let me tell you right now, there
is nothing romantic or poetic about catching a midnight bus out of town.
Whoever it is writing songs with this notion in mind has clearly never travelled this particular route. I think the realisation it was to be a hellish journey
occurred inside the terminal as myself and my good friend Gilfred sat weary
after a spectacular four days in Vancouver
with Loqui. The screening process to get on such a shitty bus was incomparable
to anything I’ve ever witnessed. So many rules and regulations just to travel
on what I believe was the prototype of buses.
Firstly,
my main bag was too heavy, so I had to take some things out (very convenient in
the middle of a bus terminal) so it met the criteria. After getting it down to
an acceptable weight, I then immediately packed everything back to where it was
before, my bag once again overweight. But, it already had it’s tag on so it
made it on to the bus without any issues. Suck on that, Greyhound! After the
strenuous checking-in process, we sat waiting for our steed to arrive. It was
around this time we observed some of the other people who would also be making
the journey to Calgary .
You
know when you’re in a line of some sort, either waiting for public transport or
in an airport terminal, and you keep seeing the same person or having to listen
to their inane dribble about how many split ends they have, or you’re in the
vicinity of someone who is quite clearly mentally deranged? And you think to
yourself, “I really hope I'm not sitting anywhere near that person when I get
on the bus/plane/train.” And you know then of course, because you've thought
that thought, you will definitely end up sitting next to or close to that
person? This is what I refer to as the Cosmic Joke.
So picture,
if you will, the Vancouver
version of the Shegogs*, a brother and sister combo probably in their mid to
late 50s. The man was wearing high pants, a woollen jumper, one of those hats
with a brim that is straight across, no curve at all, and I'm fairly sure he
also had on a bum-bag or money belt of some sort, probably both. He had also
made a trip to McDonald's and in between his sister yelling at him in her long,
button-down chambray dress, he had started to eat his chocolate sundae. This
bearded bastard was hoeing into that sundae like there was no tomorrow, and
just by watching him I was hoping there wouldn't be a tomorrow and that I would
wake in heaven surrounded by sunshine, puppies and angels serenading me while I
eat strawberries hand-picked from the fields by strong, strapping gentlemen.
Instead,
I got to look on in horror, as he ate his sundae without a spoon, and ended up
with half of it dripping from his chin, soaking into his beard as if he had
been part of a food fight. Never has there been a better advertisement for
celibacy.
So
naturally, we get on the bus, and these two, smelling like piss and bickering
at the top of their lungs are seated quite near us. Hooray! The bus driver we
had for the first leg of the tour was anything but pleasant, but in his defence he did ask these clowns to quiet down as other passengers were trying to sleep.
Because, you know, we caught the bus IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.
So
we are on the bus, I have my pillow, Gilfred has my pillow pet, for comfort. We
endure a fitful night of rest and stop in Kelowna
for breakfast and a change of drivers, and hopefully a change in luck as the
Canadian Shegogs have reached their destination. You would think the only way
was up.
TO
BE CONTINUED…
*Those
playing along at home will only understand this reference if they are from Victor Harbor
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