Monday, November 28, 2011

Greyhound Express to Seattle

And the meltdown happened. Of course I found a way to sit in front of the little kid. The little kid, as always has had a meltdown. This time it didn't even take an hour. That's how traveling goes. Doesn't make me feel less stressed out.

The last bus was too cold and fat men wouldn't stop talking about the mileage on semi-trucks (“so that was 180 gallons right there”). This bus has a child who is obsessed with the word house versus home and babbles right in my ear. The teenage mother barely has him under control and he keeps kicking my seat and the bus is too hot.

The Portland bus station is great though. It's really quite nice. Much better than Seattle; the worst bus station I have ever been to.

I-5 is full of people who can't drive in poor conditions again. At least three accidents on the way up. I really think that the roads here are far more dangerous just because of the style of driving I have witnessed on these roads.

So I'm on the express bus but it doesn't move fast enough. And my naps never last long enough.

This weekend is over. Finally and sadly. The stress of going to see a family in constant need is an unparalleled experience. I have such deep and honest joy in seeing and being around them but I also have such sadness due to the circumstances. We worked all weekend; not without its rewards, but certainly without the few rewards we really want.

It is the baby in the backseat keeping me from settling comfortably. It's the trip I need and the trip I dread. It is the sense of restriction and discomfort the baby feels and the helplessness the mother feels even while controlling him to her limit.

The nearly black scenery passes before my fogged window. Blips of light and slight shade changes give me an impressionist glimpse at the night landscape. All I can really see are the reflections of the lights on in the bus. I'll be back at the apartment soon and I'll go back to the daily grind.