Back on the East Coast

There was only one time during my entire ride to the west coast that I questioned whether I would reach my destination. During my three day bus ride back, I lost count how many times I questioned whether I would get to Pittsburgh. 

I jumped on the bus after my thirteen hour layover to find out at my next transfer point that my bicycle had made it on the bus, but my luggage did not-which held all of the gear I had collected and carried all summer. It took everything  I had not to freak out. After making several phone calls in which every greyhound employee assured me the luggage would get to PA, I put my outburst to rest.

 But the fiasco did not stop. As I find out firsthand, everyone is for the most part aware of the chance that they may not be able to board the bus. As a result, boarding gates are a war zone. People are practically ready to fight each other for a seat. It gets a little scary.  You even start to form alliances. They usually occur between your bus buddies from your recent transfer-you look out for each other to get a seat and leave the rest to fend for themselves.

When I finally reached Pittsburgh on Saturday at 5am smelling worse than I did while cycling and without three days of sleep, I had to hang in the station for a bit before I could make moves on assembling my bike. Once the local bike shops opened, I inquired to a manager whether I could leave my bicycle while I picked up some parts. My state of emotional hypersensitivity completely crumbled when he chastised me at length for even asking.

 I slowly stormed myself, an emotional wreck, and my bike out of the station. It was not two minutes after that a woman saw me, had her husband grab my box, and shove it in the rear seat of their compact car where their two year daughter had to fold her feet in to make it fit. She gave me a ride to the bike shop and her daughter showered me with the cutest conversation, informing that the box was actually her bike and she was "definitely" big enough to ride it. She saved my day. 

What I did enjoy about the bus ride was the slow pace at which it felt I was retracing my steps back to the east coast. The obstacles and odd characters simply made it an earned journey just like the ride to the west coast. And, my luggage did show up the next day- thank goodness.