Pulse of the Nation? Go Greyhound! | Salvation Is A Pop Song

Pulse of the Nation? Go Greyhound!
28th
January

Posted by Tom Senkus on Jan 28, 2009 in

Yes, my friends, its that time of year! When the impoverished snowbirds flee their summer habitats and make way for greener, warmer pastu--uhh, cities. And what better way to see these lovely geese in flight than on the 'ol Greyhound!

To see how the truly poor travel, I recommend the 'Hound. Want to know what its like in prison? On the street? The difference between a psychiatric ward and a seat next to you?

Let me list, on this trip thus far (Portland, OR to Phoenix, AZ, with detours in Sacramento, San Jose, and Salinas), that many characters you may meet:

--Lonely fifty-something's looking for you to rest your head on the crook of her arm and right breast. Oh, she might not say much about why or where she's coming from ("I was just visiting..."), but rest assured, her aged face replete with mascara and pink lipstick says plenty.

--A Mexican drug dealer! Wow! We chatted a bit as he boarded from Hayward, CA. I told him of my aimless wandering--a lie--and my seduction techniques in order to secure housing. "Usually, I just seduce fat chicks and sleep on their floor," I say. His stoned eyes lit up with something other than the glow of a pipe. "Dude, you're like the... eh, Zodiac Killer. Check this guy out, ese," he said, gesturing to his friend in the seat in front of him. I told him that he smelled like marijuana, more specifically "a grape Swisher Sweets blunt." He pulled out the plastic wrapper--DIRECT HIT. I sunk his battleship by the time we hit Sacramento.

--Indian girl. "I love your country, but India has better culture." She's right, and I learn that her father is a university-trained musician. "I just cannot stand Mexican music. It gives me a headache." I try to reason with her that because she had not grown up with it nor understand it, she may miss why its important. "IT GIVES ME A HEADACHE!!!" she faux-yelled. I could feel the sadness of Mexicans all around us. Then, I learned that she has no job other than cooking for her brothers and cousins.

--Deadheads! Yes, with a hat and a pin to boot! We chatted briefly about the scum that ride, like a passenger who had an open headwound on our bus (I'm not kidding--his hair was glued to the oozing blood). Deadhead Guy seemed pretty protective of this cross-eyed young girl riding from Seattle to Houston. His old man tendencies came out in one instance, and then he asked me to "take care of her". "I'm too old for that now, but you...," he said with a sigh, "just remember to do the same when you're an old man." Needless to say, I slept alone the next trip.

Now, those are just the outstanding ones I've met, but a quick interview will yield the same answers--recession, women troubles, prison, and just plain kookiness. This isn't Anderson Cooper or CNN--real deal, folks.

TEASER: If you want to really amp up your pulse of the country, may I suggest hitchhiking? On one ride, I met an alcoholic Mexican heroin dealer. He bought me a beer to match the two between his legs and some spicy Asian peanuts. And I got to go on a drug deal, too!

(I'll try to accumulate all the past hitchhiking experiences, from nude beach adventures to having all my stuff stolen in Dunn County, North Carolina... who knows, you might learn something!)