The Hounds of Hell are Grey

Cathy went up to Denver in her Jeep this past Thursday, and I was supposed to go up Saturday and drive back with her so she wouldn't have to drive back by herself with Loralei, which would have been difficult.  Originally I was going to rent a car, but in the interest of saving money, I decided to Go Greyhound instead.  After all, it was only a 4 1/2 or 5 hour trip, and I could sleep through that, and I would be saving 20 or 30 dollars plus the price of gas.  I look back now and I realize what a fool I was.

I started to get my first inkling that the trip was not going to be fun when the bus was 30 minutes late getting started.  The extra half hour gave me a chance to study my traveling companions.  The people in the bus lobby were a cross section of middle to lower class America, and Mexico.  There were a lot of people that only spoke spanish.  That was ok, I try not to be prejudiced, but with the illegal immigration problem and all, I couldn't help but wonder how many were in the country illegally.  Those that didn't speak spanish or weren't black mostly seemed to have a lot of tattoos.  Most races were represented, but I don't remember seeing any orientals.  I would say the bus passengers were 30 percent black, 40 percent hispanic, and 30 percent white.  I know I sound terrible here but I really am not trying to, I am just trying to give an accurate representation of my fellow travelers.  Without exception everyone I talked too was friendly and courteous, and everyone seemed to have a great deal of patience.  There were more men than women, but not too many more.  

The bus finally left the station, and I found myself in the very back of the bus, sitting right next to the door to the latrine.  At first that didn't bother me, but after a steady stream of people going back to use the facility the smell and the disturbance began to become annoying.  I put on my Ipod headphones and tried to doze off, to pass the time in unconsciousness.  We stopped in Glenwood Springs at a Mexican tienda and twice along side the road, the first time to get people's food out of the overhead bins and the second time to open the roof vents for cool air.  Then I dozed off....and awoke to find the bus stopping along side the road again, this time at the beginning of Vail Pass.  This time we were broken down.  Most people, including me,  piled out and wandered around waiting to see what would happen next.

What happened next was that another Greyhound bus stopped.  This one was from LA and had stopped in Grand Junction about an hour after we left.  They had room for 11 people so the women and children left the sinking ship first, then there was roof for 2 more, and I lucked into the last seat on the other bus.  Wouldn't you know it, it was right across from the latrine this time instead of right beside it.  Not much improvement, but I was just glad to be on a bus that would move, and didn't care about he seat location, but when I sat down, the seat was all wet.  Someone had spilled something in it, and I rode the next three hours into Denver sitting in a puddle with my left thigh pressed up against the right thigh of a total stranger.  The only thing that took my mind off my misery was a chance to watch a semi burning to the ground in the opposite lanes as we neared Denver.  The tractor of the semi was totally engulfed in flames, but the trailer was still untouched as we went by.  That at least took my mind off of my soggy rear end for a minute or two.  I got to Denver about an hour and a half late, which was probably way better than the other stranded passengers back on Vail Pass.  I am never taking a bus again.