…and they ain’t no friends of mine.
DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT BUYING THAT TICKET.
The scene: daybreak. A quiet, dusty road pierces the horizon, seemingly endless as it divides country fields. At a nameless intersection sits a small bench, and on that small bench sits a girl. Next to her, a giant suitcase, and in her hand – a bus ticket. As she watches the steady, dependable bus approaching from the distance, she feels her fears subside – her new life is about to begin.
If I remember correctly, I think the story I was telling myself about the beginning of my journey into my new life was something like that. The reality, however, was a lot different – and that’s all thanks to the terrible people at Greyhound Bus!
In March of last year, I was finally ready to go to England for an extended stay. Since I would be there for so long, I had to sell my car – but that left me in a predicament. How would I get from my small town of Dothan, Alabama to the Atlanta airport? I thought I had the solution: a Greyhound bus! It was romantic, it was affordable, it was old-fashioned, it was practical…
…it was a nightmare.