Greyhound: Travel With a Retro Touch

Recently my wife traveled to Kansas City in our new comfortable truck for a two-week training course. At the end of the two weeks I decided I would travel up to meet her on Thursday and drive back with her on Saturday. Since I was traveling alone I sought cheaper methods of travel. Flying would have been a good choice, but no special fares appeared and that meant paying full price for the ride. By train would have been my next preference, but alas, that too was almost as expensive. Being an adventurous sort I decided to do something I have never done: Go Greyhound.

The website was simple and direct - as you might expect. The purchase of my ticket was clean and simple. I saved probably half the fare by traveling Thursday instead of a weekend day brings it down to $39. Since I did not book my travel 14 days or more in advance my only option for obtaining the tickets was 'Will Call.' A fee of $4 was added for that service - a rip-off since it means nothing more than storing my purchase in a database for later printing at the terminal. Still, it was much less than the $150+ for other means of travel.

My trip was a straightforward 6 hour drive starting at 10:40 AM from Oklahoma City, OK to Kansas City, MO at 6:02 PM. The ticket added an hour for a stop in Wichita, KS. Simple!

I packed Wednesday night with 1 carry-on - the laptop I use for writing, my iPod to catch up on the latest Pod-casts from some of my favorite: Dave Ramsey Show and Photoshop Quicktips, a drawing pad, plenty of pens, a book I'm reading and other essential items. I packed two suits and two sets of play clothes - knowing I will be driving back.

Expectations

My expected experience was based on a bus trip my wife and I enjoyed from New York City a few years ago traveling to New Jersey. That trip was quite nice with comfortable seating and plenty of room - we were the only two on the bus. If you have ever traveled to New Jersey you know the highway system likes to keep you. Getting to a hotel you just passed may require exiting, forcing you to turn left over the highway, getting back on via the service road (going the other direction), exiting and going back over or under the highway, once again entering a service road and turning right into the hotel parking lot. As we came up to our hotel I thought, "Wouldn't it be nice if he just stopped here and let us walk up the short hill to our hotel." I barely completed the thought and the driver pulled over and allowed us off. That saved us 15 minutes and we were able to catch our favorite TV show at the time in its entirety. It was an enjoyable experience for both of us.

The Terminal

This bus was entirely different. The terminal was sparse but filthy. Check-in took only minutes. All of the employees were friendly and cordial. They took my one checked bag, handing it to an older gentleman who was probably close to a nice retirement in a few years. The attendant who checked my luggage told the older man, "This one is going on 10." Having no idea what that meant I ignored it. I waited on the hard metal benches and watched people for about an hour.

A loud woman overrun with tattoos broad-casted her life story from the payphone, while dirty children with no shoes on chased each other from door to door. Nice televisions broad casted the news. Weary traveler came in one door, barking at the terminal employees about their travel chaos. I couldn't hear the details. Various older men slept on the impossible-to-sleep-on metal wire benches - a skill honed over time it seems. The bathrooms are a scene right out of a seedy V.C. Andrews childhood nightmare. They seemed to receive attention at least once a day, but are in the dark corner and downstairs as if you are walking into a morgue. I wonder if the details are burned into the imagination of the dirty children. While I was in the bathroom the call came out for my bus on lane 10. I went outside and got in line by the bus - quickly assessing the nature and disposition of my bus-mates.

The Bus

Probably a 20 year old bus that has lived just past what it should. The layout is familiar with my bus trip in New Jersey, but not quite so comfortable nor as posh. Several seats were falling apart and the instrumentation panel above one seat hung low from its wires, dangling a few inches below the ceiling. I took a seat fairly close the front.

There were two seats on each side of the aisle. I took a seat on the right-hand side of the bus. About 20 others boarded the bus and we began our Journey. As the driver sat down I noticed the time was 10:52 AM and he announced, "We'll be in Tulsa about 12:15."

"What!?" I gulped. I asked the young man in front of me, "Did he just say Tulsa?"

The young man quickly looked at his ticket and replied, "I think so." His ticket was several pages and listed more cities than I could count. He seemed nervous and put on his headphones and read a book that any teenager might have in his backpack. I thought perhaps I misheard or somehow we have been re-routed and tried to relax.

The loud 30-something man to my left across the aisle demonstrated to the 30-something woman behind him how to properly lay on the bus seats to get the best rest - a skill her acquired on the journey from Amarillo, TX - which he left at 4:00 AM that morning. He never slept, though he laid down and sat up several times, talking very loudly to the woman, whom he met in Amarillo. I knew this would be long trip now. I listened to the sad story of their journey's and how they were now about 6 hours behind the time they were supposed to arrive at their destinations, one in Des Moines, Iowa and the other New York to pick up his son. The woman going to Des Moines began her story of how she was a waitress in a strip club, so I hunted for my iPod.

Thirty minutes later we took the turn for Tulsa's turnpike from I-35 going north. Now I knew something was wrong. I walked up to the bus driver - an especially friendly person named Rudy and asked him if I got re-routed. Looking at my ticket he said that other bus had too many people and they sometime balance the load to Kansas City, MO. He said we would arrive about 5:55 PM which was 10 minutes before the other bus was scheduled to arrive. I went back to my seat and calmly waited for Tulsa.

In Tulsa, I moved to the back of the bus and we took on enough people to fill almost every seat. I counted several 1980's rock band tee-shirts, 3 bandannas, many NASCAR fans, a few Mexicans, several women who had children in tow referring to her as 'grandma' and a few young men who looked like they had given up on life and thought a move would help. I read my book and learned more about Photoshop fearing to take out my laptop. Once gentleman later pulled out a Sony PSP3 and watched a pack of movies he had brought, so I was not too worried about my iPod, but I was careful not to brandish it too often.

We left Tulsa via highway 75 going north toward Bartlesville, OK. We stopped in Bartlesville at a convenience store that the bus driver favored for its fried burritos. Twenty minutes later we boarded again for Independence, KS and took a turn east on highway 160. On the east side of Independence we turned north on highway 169 toward Chanute, KS. We stopped for another break in Chanute to drop some people off. We drove further north on highway 169 through Iola, KS. Later, in Olathe, KS, we joined back up with Interstate 35. Within minutes we arrived at the bus station in downtown Kansas City. A crowded version of the Oklahoma City and Tulsa stations was overrun with people - it looked more like a tiny airport. I exited the bus and got my one checked bag quickly and walked through the terminal -which seemed to have a descent café attached and out the front doors to my waiting wife at about 6:00 PM - good timing Rudy!

Overall

If I had to do it again I would once again seriously consider taking a train or plane. The people were great, but the equipment and facilities run-down. The fare was cheap and you get what you paid for.