Image by Pieter Musterd via FlickrBus stations are lonely places. The smell of diesel fumes mixed with cigarette smoke. The background noise of conversation, and the confusion of folks trying to find their ride or waiting for the family they have missed. The people fascinate me, the families smiling or tearful. The occasional street person coming in to get warm before heading back out into the cold and loneliness. I feel a kinship with these folks. Often I too was headed back out into the cold.
I've said goodbye to people at Bus stations, shared words of comfort; promises that we would see each other soon, but losing touch; soon became years, years became forever. I would leave, alone again, always alone again.
But hey! At the other end of the ride there were friends I hadn't seen in years, there was my family with welcoming arms, hugs and kisses for everyone. All of us in a rush to share our experience while apart. Talking over one another in our excitement. The folks left behind forgotten for the moment.
I wait now for the bus to bring my son back to me. There are things we need to say, love and compassion to share. I hope soon I'll be waiting again at the Bus Station.
Nice story, thank you for using my picture.
ReplyDeleteThank You Pieter for the inspiration.
ReplyDeleteBus stations kind of haunt me. In my teens, my parents divorced and I was frequently put on The Dog to travel between LA and San Diego. Lord knows neither of them was going to go out of their way to drive me to the other's home. I didn't like the ride south, I didn't want to visit my mother, I didn't like riding The Dog young and alone and sometimes being hit on by men who were old enough to know better. On the return rides to my dad's in LA, there were often passengers coming north out of Mexico, sick Americans who had drunk the water there. I have memories of sitting alone, lonely and unhappy, with a parade of sick people lined up in the aisle to use the only restroom on the bus. I'm not trying to be a big downer on your blog, Tag. I'm just applying my free association. I do better in airports and consider them a form of free human theater. ;~}
ReplyDeleteI am glad you are joyous about a returning son! Aidan?
Your experience fits with mine Les. "The Dog" as you say meant lonely travel with equally lonely travelers. I remember that ride from San Diego to LA well. Every trip pulled over by immigration for a green card check. Then the airlines started competing on the commuter runs. I remember prices as low as seven dollars. As soon as you ascended from LAX you were descending to SAN and vice versa. Airports were better. Clean, bright, safe and familiar.
ReplyDeleteActually no word about a returning Aidan. I'm just being a hopeful Dad and missing my missing children.
Understood about the missing children! Mine is too busy with school and her Mini Cooper and, and, and . . . shut up, Mom.
ReplyDeleteMy rides were during the Viet Nam era, of course, so I saw a lot of young service men going both directions. The young men I associated with were protestors, so I felt very sad for the uniformed ones on the bus.
I once flew one-way, SAN to LAX to go over the top on my frequent flyer miles so Ex and I could fly to London completely free! ;~}
The few times I've been out of Ohio, I've either took a plane or a private car. I did take a bus (either Greyhound or Trailways) on an 8th grade field trip to Washington DC, but they drove us from and to the school itself. I just now googled a picture of the Greyhound Bus station in Cleveland. Cool art deco design (I believe it was built in the '40s)on the outside. I have no idea what it looks like on the inside. Quite frankly, Cleveland Hopkins Airport is easier to get to from my house, and probably doesn't cost much more, so I'd just as soon take that, but I can get into the romance of bus travel, having seen both "It Happened One Night" and "Bus Stop", but who wouldn't want to travel with Claudette Colbert or Marilyn Monroe?
ReplyDeleteAs I said in an earlier post my first day in the Navy was the last official day of that war. The military had changed their policies to allow travel in civilian clothes because the soldiers and sailors were being harassed in public places all over the country. It was a sad, stupid, polarizing time.
ReplyDeleteHi Kirk, The greyhound/trailways station here also sports that 40's art deco look. They were probably built for all the travel during WWII. There is very little romance to bus travel. I think if you want romance, trains are the way to go. Faster and more comfortable than buses and less crowded than air travel. And who knows you might be sitting next to an up and coming starlet.
ReplyDeleteMy step Dad started his career with United Airlines at Cleveland Hopkins. I flew in and out of there frequently as a kid.
This post brings a flood of memories. It's probably worthy of a whole post. Mine is from the Viet Nam era too, and involves an escapee from a mental hospital (post traumatic stress disorder from the Viet Nam war) - riding to summer employment in the Tetons with me.
ReplyDeleteSomeone should compile a book of bus station memories. Yours was touching and well-written, Tag.
All right, y'all ~ more to say about buses and other things.
ReplyDeleteKirk, the "romance" in bus travel for me was watching a bunch of folks with Montezuma's Revenge waiting their turn in line, suffering in a different way (but still suffering) from the rest of us on the bus. Lots of young, bewildered draftees wanting to talk to me (or a girl like me) but unsure whether I'd welcome that or bark at them.
Kass, I worked for 15 years for the union with a man a little older than I who functioned pretty well in the world, but who was nearly certifiable with PTSD from the war. He spoke of coming back from his 3rd tour of duty, having been wounded many times. He landed in San Francisco and went out into the sunshine to walk, where people spit at him in his uniform. He was 20. Once, on a work assignment, he and I had to drive across Camp Pendleton in northernmost San Diego County. I drove. We checked in at the gates and I drove us toward the on-base school where we were to do a little union dog-and-pony show. He was nearly catatonic in my car as the marines did practice maneuvers above and around us. I was terrified. He was spot-on at the on-base school. Then I had to get him back out of Dodge. It was epic.
Thank you Kass. I'd like to hear a bit more of that story, sounds intriguing.
ReplyDeleteWar sucks.
i rode the dog track, college to home and back again, for several years. it came into a not good section of baltimore, where my dad would pick me up. i was so dissociated from everything, i don't think i would have noticed if the bus burst into flames. i was practiced in invisibility, so no one noticed me.
ReplyDeleteand yes, tag, war sucks, in more ways than i can stand to think about.
There are some parts of Baltimore that are pretty scary. My First duty station after boot camp and School was Patuxent River MD. My getting there deserves a post of its own.
ReplyDelete