I had started to write a follow up to this post about SOPA, but then I left for Boston and writing about the spectacularly fucked up trip to get there is much more appropriate.
I usually drive up to Boston, but for this trip I was taking the bus because I find that sitting next to a guy who resembles Gollum and trying to look down my shirt for the entire seven hour trip makes for a most charming experience. It also saves a lot of money when you’re a starving writer.
(Do you like how I put “starving” in there? Like how it’s not already implied as soon as you say “writer” that you’re starving?)
The main issue with taking the bus though is that they leave at a predetermined time rather than at whatever time I arrive to board, and with the insanity that follows me around like a stray cat, I usually end up running late.
If I was a mature person I would admit that the first screw up of the trip was my own fault since I didn’t plug in my cell phone, thus the battery was dying which resulted in its alarm going off very softly to conserve energy, thereby leading to me not waking up as early as I needed. Instead I’m going to say that my phone’s battery blows and that it shouldn’t need to be charged as often as it demands. Piece of shit.
Waking up late was then compounded when I discovered that it had started snowing during the night. I had my dog’s leash firmly in my hand when I opened the front door to leave for my mother’s house, but an Eskimo dog’s instinct to blast into snow is more powerful than the lock to keep the lead from letting out too far and she ended up nearly pulling my shoulder out of its socket as she blasted off into a snow drift.
“Kir-AAAAHHHHH!” I screamed as she yanked me into the snow and sent my backpack and suitcase flying from my arms.
I was parched by the time I reached mumma’s so the first thing I did when I got to her house was to yank open the refrigerator, grab the orange juice and start chugging straight from the carton because I’m a lady like that. I had swallowed at least two huge gulps before I realized that my brother had added fucking vodka to the carton of orange juice. I spat out what was left in my mouth but there was no getting around that I had just chugged a giant Screwdriver for breakfast.
I could have possibly still made the bus at this point, but then my mother and I reached the highway and it was still snowing and this is southern New Jersey. South Jersey + Snow (of any accumulation) = You’re not going anywhere motherfucker.
There was another bus leaving three hours later and rather than have my mother drive me across the bridge again, I convinced her to leave my pathetic ass at the station where there was at least the world’s worst coffee and incredibly slow Wifi. All was calm until I took a trip to the restroom.
When I had gone into the bathroom stall, the lock didn’t turn very easily. If I hadn’t been buzzed on vodka, I probably would have gone to another stall, but instead I cursed at the lock and turned it until it caught in the door. The lock got its revenge though. When I went to leave, it refused to release the door.
It was about 7am at this point, I was cold, drunk and nauseated so I did what I do best which was to be impulsive and destructive. I pulled one of my slutty boots from my suitcase, yanked it on and then kicked the shit out of the bathroom door until I broke the lock.
Violence always makes me feel better so it didn’t even phase me when I finally boarded the bus a couple of hours later and the driver announced, “So this snow…um…yeah, I hope you guys weren’t planning on getting to Boston on time ’cause…nah, that’s not gonna happen…”
Yay snow in south Jersey/Philly.
EDIT: Ya’all need to read Nicki’s comment below to hear how she experienced hearing this story firsthand. And kazoos are awesome.