"Get me off this bus"

I don’t remember much of the nearly five hour bus ride form New York Boston aside from the fact that the guy next to me was literally sleeping on top of me. Boarding the bus without anything, no book, no magazine, not even an ipod, I knew I was in for a long trip. The worst possible thing would be that he might want to talk with in order to pass the time. Probably talk about where I’m from and where I’m going and why I’m on this smelly bus looking like I don’t want to talk to anyone. Like I’ve mentioned in other posts about traveling, I don’t like to be troubled with other people.

So I sat and diligently read The New Yorker and tried not to encourage him. An hour into the trip he was out like a light, sleeping like he might were he home in his living room, sprawled out on his worn-in recliner. At one point his head was on my shoulder, his leg almost draped entirely over mine and the irony didn’t escape me that it was there, on a reckless, speeding, smelly (did I mention that before?) bus that a guy is all over me.

If I got any closer to the window I would have been outside.

When he woke up, finally, he looked up at me with sleepy eyes and asked in half-amazement: “We’re here?”

Yes. And the symphonic range of your snoring made the journey all the more delightful. Can I have your number?

But in this day and age (meaning living in New York City and being 23) I can’t argue with spending $15 on anything, and in this case I guess that meant some unwanted bus-time canoodling.