This place is a lot smaller than New York, Dayton Nevada. Okay, so when you hear it like that, then..., yeah, I mean...Well...DUH! Lifeless and barren sports no malls or even a single movie theater. It has no buildings over 8 floors. It's so flaaaaaaaaaat.I mean ____________________________________________________!

Like that.

My trip was, how can I portray this in one word...epic. For the first twelve hours of my trip, I sat next to a guy that thinks that soap is a reason to change the channel. I'm a half full kinda guy, so I concentrated on what it was like for this guy sitting next to this woman that would not shut up. She had this voice like that woman that answers the phones in "Office Space". So I just kept saying to myself, over and over, that your nose can get used to raw sewage if it smells it long enough.

I found out, much later, that it, in fact, cannot!

My trip was scheduled to be three days long and I thought Greyhound would be a cool way to see some interesting sights. I guess I did see some interesting things like;
-the same farm over and over and over again when I
was going through Kansas. it was like the Matrix
was changing every 20seconds.
-a woman actually changed a poopy diaper on her
lap
in the seat in front of me. Twice.
-did you know that 9 out of 10 people would rather
purchase a Greyhound ticket than mouth-wash?

Other than endless hours of farms and bad breathe, it was a pretty cool ride and I was enjoying myself immensly. Towards the end of my trip though, balance attacked me. My bus got caught up in traffic and we missed the connecting bus, adding another day to my journey. Love Greyhound and their foresight. This was after I spent the last fifteen dollars I had on a very small sausage biscut breakfast (just one mind you) and video games. Well I thought, Hey! I'll be home in another five hours. Oh, how life laughs when you make plans. Missed the god damned bus. Untill I get another mobile phone...wait they're called "cell phones" now, I will just keep using the old fashioned calling card. So I called my brother on my calling card and let him know that I will be there the next day at 6:50 a.m.

Chuckle Chuckle! quoth life.

BTW, I just have to say that it's a damn good thing that I like potatoe chips and snack-ens, cause unless God comes down and says "BEHOLD" the only food you will find on a Greyhound trip will be in vending machines.

At this point I only have to get on the bus and get to Reno. Sounds simple. I know. It turns out that it's Greyhound's policy to just keep selling tickets even if the bus doesn't have enough room for all the passengers. I get in line when they FINNALLY, FOR THE LOVE OF ANYTHING THAT WILL JUST GET ME HOME, announce the boarding of my bus. That's when I notice that there is something like 100 people getting up at the same time as me. I am slowly making it closer and closer to the door and when I actually make it to the threshold, yeah you guessed it, the agent stops me and says that this bus is filled up and they are sending for another one to take the rest of us.

It arrives two hours later.

But wait there's more!

I then finnally get to Reno and notice that the bus just keeps going past Circus Circus (the place the woman that sold me the ticket said was where the bus would drop me off, hence the place I told my brother to pick me up.) .

This is where I heard another little chuckle.

We drive way past Circus Circus and end up in podunk timbuck fucking two to the fifth power. Now, my brother doesn't even know that I was ganna be late, of which I'm two hours, and he's lookin for me in the way wrong place. Guess what? He doesn't have a cell phone either. the cherry on top is that he lives an hour away from his house phone in Carson City. The sprinkles are that my calling card just ran out calling him previously. The whipped cream is that he doesn't stop looking for me till sometime around ten.

He gets home around eleven and I finnally get a hold of him by calling collect. The whole time I'm reluctantly making the aquaintance of every smelly, red-neck, chicken fucker, mullet-hick in the state. He pulls up and I don't even have enough in me to excuse myself from the one way conversation I'm having with Earl (as I call him in my head) and I just walk over to his trunk and start throwing my shit in it, dive into the passenger side of the car and proceed to make an empassioned and loud plea for him to get in and get me the fuck away from Deliverance!

Then he asked me how my trip was.

While he was smiling.

smiling.

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