Sometimes it feels like everything is against you. Today was one of those days. My dad was always very adamant about getting to the airport/bus station about 50 years before we were actually boarded. Me being my spontaneous DUMB self, has always disregarded this smart lesson. I bought a ticket on my phone for a Greyhound bus home at 6:00 pm. Because I bought it on my phone I would have to pick up the physical ticket at a kiosk. Here’s where things start going wrong. I already have been feeling extremely ill which adds to the fun unconscious vibes of this tale! Abby, her friend Jack and I took a train from white plains into grand central station. The train arrived at grand central at 5:00 pm. I was supposed to be at the station no later than an hour before the bus boarded to print my ticket. This is where the panic began. I was holding my two bags, both containing the weight of the Grand Canyon inside so that made walking extremely easy (does my sarcasm translate or no). Abby was keeping my very calm and so was Jack and I cannot thank them enough for putting up with my voice cracking, on the verge of pity whimpering nonsense. I tried to get an uber and he was at the wrong location to pick us up and when we finally ran to get to him. Wait for it. He drove away. So my panic level has now reached Titanic passenger after seeing all the rays run from the water pouring into the third class corridors. Abby calls a lyft which is basically uber and as we look for this car and finally find it. It. Drives. Away. I am now a toddler and am losing my fucking mind. We decide to walk at this point. It is not 5:50. The bus boards in 10 minutes but I don’t even have a physical ticket yet. I am convulsing. I am sending terrible vibes out into the universe and basically thinking I will have to take another bus. As we’re running (jack has kindly taken my extremely girly duffle bag) I decide to look up later bus times. The only available time to Boston arrives in the city at 2:30 am. Mind you I’m sick and I have to work an 8 hour shift tomorrow. I’m moaning quietly at this point. I am extremely annoyed by myself. We reach port authority and run to the terminal. Of all the ways this situation could have turned out…magically the bus is late. Jack runs with me to print my ticket. The bus ended up being almost two hours late and I couldn’t have been happier about it. I’m now listening to musical theatre music and Peter Gabriel’s “So” on the way home. Boston home.
Sometimes everything goes wrong. And you have to incredibly kind people to get you though it. And put up with your childish reactions and hold your flowery duffle bag and wait for the bus that was two hours behind schedule. And it doesn’t feel like the end of the world anymore.