Since arriving at the Jackson Greyhound station in a Carmax shuttle bus this morning, the characters around us are getting more interesting and bizarre by the minute. At present I’m standing on our second bus – out of Baton Rouge – which was overbooked. I can either wait until 4:30am for the next one (“a free night at motel greyhound” I said, but the driver was as humourless as he was indifferent) or call a 1800 number on Monday.
The eccentric lady in her 60′s has not stopped her story-telling, chastising monologue, which becomes directed at another person only as long as they look at her, since Jackson. It crescendoed to a tirade when Greyhound staff at B.R. upset her. This brought the thug next to us onside ,and a common bond developed between him and Martina. With tattoo sleeves and blood over the left side of his face, the story he rebutted a homeless guy who was asking for money with (“Yeah well I was spittin’ blood all night, this sandwich is the only thing I ate in days. And my dog died.”) was more believable than that of the homeless man. The bloodied man, when a young, dolled-up black girl strolled out of the restrooms and out the front door, said “she must be a lady of the night; she din’ come in here looking like THAT”.
To avoid all of this confronting behavior, a young girl from the bus chose to spend the 90 minute wait standing in a corner of the vending machine room. Another hid inside the cafe.
Don Watson’s story is continuing to parallell our own journey. He rode the Amtrak to New Orleans in the aftermath of Katrina; we are not there yet but there is frequent mention of it amongst other passengers (chiefly the eccentric lady’s rants) and a sense not of pessimism, but of hardship and abandonment. It certainly feels like we are in another world.
A bus pulled up and unloaded its contents. A youth dressed like a bunny at a rave strolled around, and I followed him with my iPhone long enough to ascertain that even if he looked like a character from the film ‘Gummo’ he wasn’t as crazy, and asked him to let me photograph him. As it turned out, Kitaen Silver was in need of friendship – but didn’t ask a thing about me, instead offloading his recent problems. Fortunately it was soon time to board the bus.
Had we travelled this route with Amtrak we would have saved $25 and arrived hours ago; but this kind of experience was worth the extra time and money.
Eccentric lady preaches to the masses in Jackson before boarding:
Then she gives the driver a hard time:
Sussing out rabbit man before approaching him:
Kitaen Silva, fan of Japanese (sub-) culture, couldn’t wear his mask on the bus, for ‘obvious reasons’.
You’re much braver than me. Have never caught Greyhound in the USA and a bit petrified of ever doing so!
It’s fine, I’d recommend it. Just have to remember to keep breathing deeply.