Miracle on the Bus - Part 1 of 3

Passengers names are changed

I really wanted to go to Ottawa to spend Christmas with my family but I couldn't get a flight. Everything was booked solid. I checked-out the train but that was prohibitively expensive. Sadly, I was left with only two choices - stay home that Christmas or take the bus. Friends of mine advised me against taking the bus because it was a four-day non-stop trip; sleeping all night on the bus; and snacking on whatever bits and bites you can carry in your pockets most of the time. More importantly, they made me acutely aware that I would not necessarily be travelling in the company of - let's say - the upper crust of Vancouver's finest. To my way of thinking, however, if I can ride alone from Burnaby to Ottawa on a Harley Davidson motorcycle with just a pup-tent to keep me dry I can certainly handle whatever unpleasantries and minor inconveniences long distance bus travel can throw at me. Just so long as I don't meet my next wife on the bus like my father did – God forbid. I decided to bite the bullet and buy my ticket. Surely, it was going to be a picnic – right?

I was the only guy in the line-up with a real suitcase with zippers and tiny wheels. Other passengers, the vast majority of which were considerably less than half my age, carried knapsacks with a hundred straps and buckles and/or store bought shopping bags. But, the mood was good. Three young smokers, however, were huddled outside in the cold having a final drag before departure. On boarding, they bolted straight for the back seat next to the wash-room. The bus was nice and clean. The driver announced that no smoking was allowed but we would make frequent rest stops where smokers could have a ciggy outside. I could see big problems ahead regarding the smoking issue and especially for the three young guys on the back seat. The next stop was at Chilliwack where we picked up new passengers.I noticed a guy wearing a red cap walking in circles suspiciously near the open door. After glancing around several times he hopped on our bus while the driver was not there. He took a vacant seat on my row but on the far side of the centre aisle by the window. Our driver never saw him. I was convinced he was catching a free ride so I thought I'd lean over and ask to see his ticket. I changed my mind when I noticed his tattoo of a python wrapped around his neck and that the size of his fist was bigger than my face.


 You could hear the engine running but everyone was dead-quiet.I began to see why. Almost every young person was hypnotized by a hand-held electronic device held inches away from their noses. I don't even know what those things are called except that some start with the word Android and the rest are usually prefixed by the letter i~ or e~.

 At Revelstoke BC the bus station was crowded and people were rushing about here and there. The washrooms were disgusting for anyone with a sensitive nose. I just about tripped over a girl of about twenty sitting on the wet concrete floor leaning her back against a cement block wall. She looked half-dead. Her skin-tone was grey and her eyes glazed. I knelt down beside her to ask if she was OK. All I got was a few unintelligible grunts. Her girl-friend came back from the snack bar with sandwiches, pop, cookies and peanuts and things and she told me that her friend hadn't eaten all day and that she would be alright once she got some food into her. I let the sick girl lean on me while I helped her find a seat on the bus. The girl with the food, Daisy, sat next to me while her sick friend sat next to the guy in the red cap. That way, Daisy could just lean across the centre-aisle to feed her friend who was already beginning to look better. Daisy was pleasant enough but she was overweight and her face was covered in metal which interfered with her ability to speak clearly. She had a stud through her tongue; silver rings stuck in her upper lip and eyebrows and one of those split-rings through her nose - just like a prize bull. I don't know what makes kids do that kind of thing these days.

I was watching the snow come down when I realized that we had turned-off the Trans-Canada Highway. The bus was getting slower and slower and the engine was labouring far more than before. Finally, the bus came to a stop and the driver announced that we were in the Rockies and stuck in the snow. He was taking a short-cut because we were running late but the snow had made it impassable. It was not wide enough for us to turn around without the help of a tow-truck. I wasn't too concerned. I passed the time looking through my window at the fast-flowing river five hundred feet below. Where else to get stuck but on the edge of a high cliff? What did concern me was that we were going to be at least four hours late arriving at Calgary. This meant that we would miss our 8:00 pm connection to Regina, Saskatchewan, and make us an extra day late getting to Ottawa.

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