I really doubt you can find a ride for $1.
Gas prices at the moment are hovering around four dollars a gallon, spurring many people to look for a more viable means of transportation within the city. While it isn’t a secret that Minneapolis is a city of bikes and burgeoning public transportation, there is still a vacuum to be filled for interstate travel on the ground. Recently, I decided to give the bus company MEGA a try, looking to catch a ride to the Windy City. A round trip ticket cost around $60 dollars, cutting my expenses in half when compared with traveling by car. I was more than giddy to save the extra dough, but what was not expected was the cast of characters that would accompany me on my travels.
To be fair, I was not naive to bus travel before this trip. Experiencing the joys of travel on Greyhounds in the past, I was fully prepared for a 8 hour trip turning into 16. I was sure that this would then be followed by all of my cigarettes going into others’ mouths after the first rest stop. There was no doubt that a seat change would occur somewhere along the way, coming with the prize of a wailing baby in my lap. Would I get stuck with the desperate seat buddy or would it be the silent, cold stares that would pick me off? Greyhound is probably more of a Sloppy Joe, with its sweet allure of delicious-meaty promise, followed by a few hours on the can. MEGA is Tang, NASA supported, even futuristic. Appealing enough to have you come back to its can, cute ape astronauts in all. Ever so slightly off in taste, so as to leave you pondering its creator.
Mega Bus is no Sloppy Joe.
Upon arriving to board the bus, I was quickly signaled out as new to the whole routine. I asked the driver who checked my verification code if I could take any seat, dead giveaway. His expression turned down a bit and he pointed to the door, letting me know that he had no time for such ill-fated questions. MEGA is a double-decker bus; peering into the first floor it was filled already with half asleep individuals. I took to the stairs and slowly started to walk down the aisle searching for a seat. At this point, I was a bit late on the uptake and saw that everyone had smartly already taken the available window seats. This was an overnight ride and comfort was at a premium, travel would begin at 10 p.m. and end at six the next morning. I knew my choice of seat was of the utmost importance.
Glares were coming from all directions, with not a friendly face to be seen. If I was going to choose a seat, it had to be done quickly and with as much confidence as possible. But not so, the choice was made and it came from someone with a bit more confidence than myself. She told me I could sit next to her as I walked past and I happily agreed. I later found out my seatmate was from Gary, Indiana, placing calls to her family and friends throughout the ride.
She offered a pillow, put down the armrest for me to use and assured me she was happy to be sitting next to someone that wasn’t a crying baby. Well, she did so indirectly, by informing others periodically throughout that I was a good person to be sitting next to, but yes, the girl in front of her was not. The politics of ‘friending’ were at play for hours; why had she allowed someone to see her profile when she did not know them? It was a mistake, a mistake that would now mean that it ‘was time to clean house’. This clean would take the better half of the ride, tiny clicks on the pad of a smartphone writing away wrongs. Updates were given. Calls were made. Comments were ‘liked’. We all grew up a little during those early morning hours.
It should be noted that MEGA has outlets for plug in electronics and also offers Wi-Fi, this is where the aforementioned term ‘futuristic’ comes in. Futuristic though, in the sense that you should expect to not get any sleep with all of the LED monitor flare ups. Yes, those plugs also allow Boost Mobile speakers to last all night, playing your favorite beats till the sun rises.
Yes, this can be your nightmare too.
At around 2 a.m. we had our one and only rest stop. It was at a truck stop which offered a full range of snacks and a delicious Wendy’s Frostie. Our bus driver apparently frequents this stop. With more than twenty people in line for perhaps a Spicy Chicken Combo or Sea Salt Fries, Rodney walked straight to the front. Catching the manager’s bleary eyes, he gave that nod, asking about that chicken sandwich. That sandwich was going to be free and it was going to be delivered to the side employee door, no question about it. Don’t worry about the fries though, they were to be substituted with a drink of choice. The manager of this establishment in his paisley pink embroidered shirt was sure to give, as he had time and time before.
As we pulled into Chicago, overhead lights were turned on to the sound of Herbie Hancock. We had arrived and it was time to ‘get up, get out and move on’. I was surprised at how fast the ride had gone, going in and out of sleep, struggling to pull my seat reclining knob just a bit farther. I was also looking forward to an easier return schedule, 3 p.m. to 11.
While my return ride did not have a seatmate with as much charisma, I was lucky to be graced with a group of recent entrants to the University of Minnesota in the rear, taking up a full four seats! One in particular stood out, mostly because of his gracious and humble attitude. This return ride back to school would be his time to shine. With laptop at hand, it was time to give all us audiophiles a real show with his full catalog of beats.
With ruffled brown unkempt hair, a skater tee and accompanying plug earrings, a confidence was brewing. With each song, congratulations would be given, a full explanation of inspiration and dedication to his craft. He really felt things were going places, he might even have a spot for his friends in his production. His weed sales were slipping as of late though and perhaps this was affecting his globetrotting ways which had come to an end last semester with the conclusion of his study-abroad program. Not to fear, he was placing calls throughout the ride, inking out deals of future music making ventures.
This is Kyle's doppelganger.
At one point before our rest stop, it became clear that Kyle had a real dilemma at hand. His friend, who had just hosted him in Chicago, had an attribute that was unthinkable. The man could not shake hands properly. Or rather ‘the boy’, because as Kyle made clear, if a handshake was not of a firm, commanding nature, all respect would be lost. And boy, the respect was nowhere to be seen for those few precious hours.
After our stop at Wendy’s, Kyle’s demeanor had taken a bit of a turn when we arrived back on the bus. The smell of alcohol was in the air. And the sound of Kyle was amplified, literally. Handshakes made an appearance. Plans were changed frequently over phone. Should they go to Hard Times, or was it to be a night at the Library. And while all of these pressing issues were in hot debate, a short black woman of very friendly nature finally had to make a stand. Kyle, a ‘young man’ who ‘new little about life’ was going to need ‘to shut his mouth, because god was listening’. If redemption was going to be searched out in Kyle’s life, it would need to start then and there because ‘frankly she was sick of hearing his blabber’.
Kyle gently protested for a bit, to the snickers all around, claiming quietly that in fact he did trust in Jesus Christ. But all was lost. The plans were dashed as the other three quickly learned they had other places to be, without Kyle. With less than an hour left in our ride, Kyle fell from his throne spectacularly. At irregular intervals, his drunken voice would rise only to be shushed away. Kyle took a taxi home when we arrived in Minneapolis. It was raining a bit with the orange glow of street lamps reflecting in the window pane of the taxi. My driver had little to say, but I was riding high on some MEGA excitement from my trip.
