This Close

A few days ago I was all stimulated by my first Greyhound bus ride in a little while, and jotted down a number of incidents from it that seemed worth writing about. I think I got to one of them before others ideas took precedence, but the ride back to LA from Phoenix gave me at least one idea (and there are no ideas crowding it out right now). It connects to something unfortunate that had happened on the preceding trip.

When the "meal stop" had come in the town of Blythe, California, I assumed we'd be stopping where the buses always had, where there were several options to eat. It doesn't stop there anymore, but rather someone a bit distant from many decent eating options. There's the gas station where they stop, and then there's a Burger King across the street and down a block or so. It's always crowded, and the stop is only for 25 minutes, so I passed.


On the return trip, I decided to take a chance. I'd set my timer for 20 minutes, and if it looked like I could get my food and get back before that time was up, I'd go through with it. I was ready even to abandon food paid for if it did take too long, but I managed to get back in several minutes less than 20, which was itself 5 minutes less than I had. I thought that all was well, only to see the bus sealed up and starting to head out as I approached it.

I rushed up to it, my cup of ice water splashing about and leaking into the sleeves of my jacket. The bus let me in, only for me to find a plastic gate blocking my way. Flustered and embarrassed, I struggled with it as passengers near the front passed judgement on me for being late and inept with the gate. Finally I got through and sat down, baffled as to how I could have been late. I frankly suspect that I was not.

It was a close call, but at least I made it. Another passenger had an even closer shave, catching up to the bus after it had exited the gas station lot. Still another missed the bus entirely, which was a terrible fate: I overheard someone say that there would be no more buses until morning (a fact which I have not checked), and a Saturday night spent in Blythe does not sound like a very pleasant one to me. Still, I made it on the bus and to my home just fine. I feel I am in the right, but I am glad there is no urgent need to prove it.