The Bad Bus Trip -- Day One -- Part Three -- Bummin' in Barstow
My happiness upon arriving in Barstow was short-lived. We pulled into the bus station at 5:05 p.m. -- 5 minutes after the snack bar/gift shop closed. My well-laid-out plan of spending part of the 2-hour and 45-minute layover there eating dinner was scrubbed. But the Sun Chips were good. They would have been much better if there had been water in the vending machines to wash them down with. I'd only been gone for 3 hours and I already had to dip into my emergency water reserve that was supposed to last 2 1/2 days.
The good thing about Barstow was that Terrorist Freak Boy and I parted company there.
I don't really remember how I killed time until 7:30. I just know I couldn't spend a lot of time outside because it was about 110 degrees. I couldn't spend a lot of time inside because of the loud, obnoxious, uncontrollable 2-year-old who was running amok. I pretty much split my time between inside and outside. I wished I still smoked. I briefly contemplated getting a half-smoked cigarette out of the ashtray near the door of the terminal. If I thought no one would catch me doing it, I probably would have.
At 7:30 I took my bag outside to wait for my bus, which was scheduled to arrive at 7:50. I'd had about enough of the 2-year-old as I could handle. Because all the bus station employees leave at 6 p.m., at 8 p.m. I asked the Pinkerton Security guard if he knew anything about the 7:50 bus. "It's always late," he said, "except when it doesn't show up. That happens sometimes." Great.
At about the time I learned that I would most likely be in Barstow until 11:15, when the next bus to Vegas got there, a bus leaving for Los Angeles pulled away. It's a mystery to me as to how the bus driver and the other passengers on the bus failed to notice the elderly couple running behind the bus, waving their arms and shouting. I felt bad for them. They didn't speak English and neither I nor the security guard speak Spanish. Eventually, the security guard found someone via walkie-talkie who could explain to them that they were stuck there 'til 4:30 a.m.
And I thought I had it bad. At least my Barstow experience ended at about 11:30 p.m. Next stop -- Vegas, baby.
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