Allie Rides the Greyhound, Gets Molested, Makes a Black Friend, Breaks Up a Fight and Rescues Some Castaways

I hesitated to post this story because I fear that it will cause my readers to question the factualness of my accounts.  Once again, I promise that I am not making this up.   I have taken no liberties with the truth.  All of it really happened.  I lived through it and by-God, I am going to tell you about it.  

I also balked at the abundant but completely necessary use of several curse words and the slander of three separate religious figures.  I am sorry, but there is just no other way to tell the story. Strap the hell in and let's go.

I arrived at the bus station early in the morning.

At the age of seventeen, I was making my first ever autonomous voyage into the unknown.  I was being recruited by a collegiate track program, so I had to ride the bus to their campus to be wined and dined and lied to about funding and the general awesomeness of their competition schedule.  I was really excited about the trip and feeling pretty special for being recruited.  It was almost like being a celebrity.

I shouldered my way through the masses of fitfully smoking lower-tier individuals to the check-in counter.

The man at the check in was overly jovial - almost like his life depended on being as friendly and lighthearted as possible.

"First time bus rider??" He trilled.

"Uh, yeah.  How can you tell?"  I asked.

"I've never seen you before."  He said with a face-splitting grin.

Apparently the check-in guy was familiar with all bus passengers.

If he had never seen you, you obviously hadn't ridden the bus before.

The bus finally pulled into the station.  I said goodbye to my mother, who was weeping with sentimentality and walked to the back of the bus.  I crammed my bags all around me, creating a physical barrier to any would-be seat partners.  I put on my headphones so I could pretend not to hear the people asking if they could sit down.   I pretended to sleep to make it even more complicated and awkward for any person who wanted to sit by me.  My method worked and I got to sit all by myself.   I thought I had just ensured my safety and peace of mind for the remainder of the bus ride and congratulated myself for being such a savvy bus passenger right out of the gates.

I probably shouldn't have actually fallen asleep because I woke up to find some guy's hand sneaking up my athletic shorts.   I was understandably confused and startled.  The guy winked at me (which must have been difficult with his eyelid piercing) and said "Watch out Sweetie - there are men on this bus..."

I wanted to tell him that there are men everywhere else too - and most of them aren't going around sticking their filthy hands up the athletic shorts of strange women, but I felt that being blatantly inflammatory would hurt my chances of surviving the rest of the trip.  I looked around for someone to protect me from the molester across the aisle.  It was at that point that I realized I was on a bus full of people who probably didn't give a shit if I was actively being molested.   Even the bus driver looked like he was pro-molester.

I wanted to call my mom, but I didn't have a cell phone and I didn't want to talk to anyone else to ask them if they had a cell phone.  I curled up into a ball and ate some crackers.

The pregnant teenage deviant who was sitting behind me must have heard me crinkling the cracker wrapper because she said "Are those crackers?"

I said "Yes?"

She said "Oh good, I have really bad morning sickness.  Can I have a couple?"

I gave her some crackers.

A minute or so later, she asked me if her boyfriend could also have some crackers.  I looked behind me to see her giant hulk of a black boyfriend.  I was a cracker with crackers, sitting in front of a brother on a bus that just left Coeur d' Alene, Idaho - the home of the Arian Nations Headquarters.   I had no choice but to give him the rest of my crackers to convince him that I wasn't like that.   I later discovered that I had made a key alliance in doing so.

The bus made a stop at a casino/gas station and I got off to use the bathroom inside because the pregnant girl had vomited up my crackers all over the bus bathroom.

The women's restroom was located at the end of a long, winding hallway with a few branching nooks.   The bus molester was waiting for me in one of the nooks.  I don't know what he was planning on doing to me, but I was extremely relieved when my new black friend showed up behind me and boomed "N-word, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"  The molester looked frightened.   He scurried away, muttering something about being lost and not knowing where the men's room was.   My big, friendly savior slapped me five and told me to watch out for bad people because I wouldn't always be lucky enough to have someone following me around and protecting me.  I loved him so very much at that moment.  I just wanted to cry and hug him and give him as many crackers as his heart could desire.

I settled for standing there like a retarded deer on a freeway.  I'm sure he understood how thankful I was.

The rest of the bus ride was fairly uneventful.  I slept like a baby with my self-appointed guardian angel watching my back.

Things only got really fucked up on the return trip.

I was a little less excited to be boarding the bus a second time.   The anxiety of the previous bus ride had only been exacerbated by my recruiting visit.  I spent two nights in a creepy dark room all by myself and two days being whisked from place to place by people who were trying so hard to impress me it hurt to watch them.  I felt less like a celebrity and more like a gun-brandishing hijacker.  It was as if my recruiters thought I would lose it and go on a killing spree if one tiny little thing went wrong.  I was given anything that I even looked at with interest and also some things I didn't.  I had always wanted that to happen, but once it was happening, I have admit that it made me feel quite uncomfortable and a lot guilty.

At the bus station, the recruiter bid me goodbye and gave me a sweatshirt with the University's logo on it - in case I forgot that they wanted me.

I chose a seat near the front so that the bus driver had the option of stepping in should I be molested again.  I executed the whole bags-on-the-seat-wearing-headphones-and-pretending-to-be-asleep routine successfully.

Two hours into the bus ride, things were still going well.  I could hear a loud young man telling stories at the back of the bus.   He had captured the attention of about six people and he was not about to let it go.   He was obviously going for shock value.

If you are the one person who said they would stop reading my blog if I used the F-word, please stop reading here.  Seriously.  You will not be happy with me...  

He said things like "Fuck, so then I fucking fucked her in the fucking anus and busted my fucking load all over her fucking cunt" and "women are just fucking cunts that need to be fucked, ya know?"  It was all very de rigueur on a bus, I suppose.

Apparently this discourse offended the scruffy, overweight man in the seat in front of me who had previously been peacefully drinking milk out of a half-gallon carton and catching the dribbles with his impressively biblical beard.

He stood up, making it obvious that milk was not the only thing he had been drinking and managed to slur "you shut the fuck up back there you little fucker!"

I appreciated his attempt to defend the honor of nameless women everywhere, but the scrappy storyteller at the back of the bus did not.

"What if I don't?  What are you going to do about it Jesus?" he said.

"I'll pound your face in!" said Jesus-beard.

"Come back here, old man. and show me what you got!" The weaver of lewd tales provoked the bearded savior of female dignity.

It was on.

The bus came screeching to a halt.

The bus driver told the two men that he would not tolerate fighting on his bus.  He requested that they kill one another directly outside the bus instead.  

Now would be a good time for me to explain something about myself at this stage in my life.  I was going through an awkward phase that can only be described as a misguided attempt to feel righteous and good.  I had decided that I was against violence of any kind and that I should proselytize my message to the rest of the world.  I am also very optimistic about things - like my chances of surviving intervening in a battle to the death between someone who fucking fucks assholes and a milk-guzzling Jesus impersonator.

The Asshole Fucker exited the bus first and began gesticulating wildly in a display I imagine was meant to intimidate his opponent.  But our corpulent hero was not about to concede his noble argument.  He strode as quickly and as straightly as he could (which was not very quickly or very straight) toward his enemy.

Thinking quickly (or failing to think quickly, if you want to look at it that way) I stepped between the circling duelers, planting my dainty little hands directly on their chests.  I yelled "you don't need to fight!"

They begged to differ.

The Asshole Fucker said "Babe, you're cute and everything but this is something that needs to be settled between two men."

That seemed to upset the obviously pro-feminist bearded crusader.

He took a swing at the Asshole Fucker but missed and looked sad when I flinched and squealed.  He obviously didn't mean to scare me with his brutishness.

Did I mention I was really into the whole pacifism thing?   I persisted in my protest.  I think I yelled something about "why can't we all just get along?!"  It was beautiful.  My ex-hippie mother would have been proud if she had not been so angry at me for jeopardizing the survival of "her sweet baby girl" (me.)

To my utter shock and glee, the men stopped fighting.  Probably because the bus driver got into the bus and started to drive off, but I still felt at least partially responsible for ending the conflict.

I felt like I had changed the world.  I was like the fucking Buddha, man.  Or Ghandi.   I felt that I should be featured on Oprah or something.   I was so stoked on myself.

At the next stop, I got out to peruse the gift store.  I was still feeling all high and mighty, and felt that I needed some sweet sunglasses to complement my newfound attitude.  The line to the cash register was really long, but I really needed to look like a badass, so I waited.

Just as I was exiting the gift shop with my purchase, I spotted the bus pulling out of the parking lot.

I sprinted to catch it and managed to get close enough to bang on the doors.

The bus driver slowed down the bus.   He didn't open the doors.

Instead, he pointed at his watch and shook his head disapprovingly.

The bus started to move again.

I ran alongside it and frantically pounded my pathetic little fists against the doors.

The bus stopped again.

After what seemed like an eternity, the bus driver opened the doors and chided me for making him late.   He made certain that I understood we were on a strict schedule where every second counts.

As he pulled onto the freeway on-ramp, I noticed that the other bus passengers were upset.

One woman said that her husband was still using the restroom.

There was also a child left behind.

And somebody's grandmother.

The bus driver was unsympathetic.  He told the people that their loved ones should have paid more respect to the pressure he was under to get them to their destination on time.  He failed to understand the irony of his argument.

Emboldened by my new shades and still feeling like I was a major agent of positive change for the world, I approached the bus driver.   I explained to him that his job was to make sure people got from point A to point B and that at least three people were stranded at point A-and-a-half because of him.  I told him that I understood the need to be punctual, but that all the punctuality in the world wouldn't make up for abandoning someone's grandmother at a seedy rest-stop.

Just as I was about ready to give up my crusade to save the castaways, the bus driver had a change of heart.  In an even more dramatic display of irony, he turned the bus around after he had been driving for thirty minutes to go pick up the people he left behind out of being in a hurry.  He wasted an hour trying to save a few minutes.  And he made everyone super pissed off.  The grandma was shaking with rage when she was rescued.  The child was crying and probably traumatized for life.

We arrived in Coeur d' Alene much later than scheduled.  My anxiously waiting mother was worried sick.

And that was before she found out that her daughter had been molested, saved from almost certain raping by a good-hearted, cracker-loving civilian, almost destroyed in an epic battle and very nearly stranded at a seedy rest area with nothing but a pair of sunglasses and a rapidly fading sense of self-righteousness.

More Epic Adventure Stories:


Anonymous said...

I thought I was the only one that got stuck in bad situations but you take the cake. I'm glad you know how to joke about it though!

Nooter said...

oh boy, where to begin.

first, im glad you explained your picture at the top is a sexy lion cuz i thought you were caught in the act of a sneeze/hiccup and i wondered why you would post a picture of a sneeze/hiccup.

next, did you stick your head out the window of the bus while it was going fast? thats always alot of fun. and of course sharing your snaks is a great way to make influential friends; lots of people have made me their friend that way.

also, did you go to school there? dont leave us hanging

finally, your si swimsuit picture on the side there kinda reminds me of edgar in 'men in black' after the giant cockroach put on his skin. maybe you should see a doctor or something. just sayin....

Jenny, the Bloggess said...

Your blog is giving me epilepsy but it's still totally worth it.


Anonymous said...

Oh my gosh Allie, each new post just gets better! I honestly think you've had the most interesting life of anyone I've ever known. And that's amazing being that you're in Montana. I wonder if the rest of the country knows there's actually a whole civilization up there in Montana. ;) Oh, and I love all the new pics along the sidebar.

Roshni said...

You sure do know how to live, don't you?!?

Carrieann said...

Thanks for the reminder to never ride a bus. Ever.

jessicabold said...

Can I live with you? I love Montana.

And, I definitely would have never guessed sexy lion...

Anonymous said...

I have great friends in Great Falls! AND hang onto your seat Allie... I lived in Idaho for over 20 yrs! So I KNOW about the whole "cracker" thing cracker!
GREAT post as always!!!!!!
Glad you survived the bus ride!
This so reminded me of bringing my Idaho raised children to Michigan which is definitely NOT the land of "crackers!" ;)

Chris Gooch said...

i'm in awe of your diplomacy skills...I think you should totally send this blogpost to the Obamanator so he can make you a special envoy to the Middle East peace process and then you win the Nobel prize and dedicate it to Milky Jesus.

Or not.

linlah said...

the whole thing is funny but cracker with a cracker makes me want to repeat that over and over.

Homemaker Man said...

Fuckin' that is fucking a fucking really fucking good fucking post. Fucking good fucking writing.

Anonymous said...

You are the stuff classic sitcom television is made of.

Kritta22 said...

I have never rode (ridden?) a bus before...ever. Now I'm not going...EVER.
Sorry about the lack of knowledge on the rode part....just call me lame.

Sorcerer said...

The way you write it
Cant believe it
I have never seen a blog like that.

the way you saying
cant believe it.
I have never seen a post like that.

wow! cool ..

heavealie said...

lol that was one hell of a journey.if all this happened for real then you are living one hell of a life!!but why would someone buy a pair of glasses after stopping a fight lol gives you that secret agent look!!!??!!!haha.that situation was like out of the blue.oh btw!!its gandhi hehe k.keep writing really enjoyed this work!!

Chris Gooch said...

I've left something on my blog for you.

Feel free to accept graciously yet not complete all the crap that comes with it. I won't tell if you don't.

Hipstercrite said...

Lower-tier individuals!? Are you saying that people who take the bus are less of a human being than others? ;)

Allie said...

Heather - I figure that if you can joke about it, then at least some good has come of it. And I think I'm unable to be traumatized...

Nooter - oh, puppy, they don't let people stick their heads out of bus windows... I wish they did.

I love hearing all of the interpretations of my picture at the top of the page! I totally thought everyone would think sexy lion, but I guess I just affect people in different ways. Like a Picasso painting.

I didn't end up going to school there. The coach was a little overbearing - to the point of wanting to control the athletes' food intake. I don't think I would have survived very long in a program like that!

Finally: Wow Nooter... I'm never going to the beach again.... just kidding. I totally look like Edgar from Men in Black. I can accept that.

Jenny - At first I thought I'd just ignore your comment to make myself look cool and like I totally don't need you, but then I was like "who am I kidding?? This is what I"ve dreamed of for... well approximately a month or so because that was about when I found your blog - but the fact remains that once I started reading your blog, I couldn't stop reading it and you instantly became my hero. Thank you for validating my entire life and giving me the constructive criticism I needed to do something about my background.

Josh -Thank you!

I haven't always been in Montana. I lived in Idaho for awhile :) Sometimes I think maybe I'm just stupid and that's why I end up enmeshed in these crazy adventures. I still have a few more of the super epic ones saved up, too! (And I'm sure I'll become involved in future adventures because that's just how I am...)

Roshni - I guess I do. Like I said to Josh, sometimes I wonder if I'm just stupid - like incapable of avoiding crazy stories. More to come!

CarrieAnn - you are welcome! I would also caution against the train, but mostly because you end up riding the bus when the train gets stuck behind tunnel construction and they don't tell you until seven hours after it was supposed to be there.

Jessica - you want to live in Montana? It snowed six inches this morning! The low tonight is 7 degrees fahrenheit. It regularly gets down well below 0 degrees - like negative 25 sometimes! It is so cold that you have to wear sunglasses or goggles to keep your eyeballs from freezing!!! Do you still want to live here?

Okay, I have to admit that it is really beautiful! And living near so much wilderness is kind of awesome. Who knows? Maybe we'll become really good blog friends and you can actually come visit me! It could happen.

Allie said...

Woman in the Midst - I know! When I tell people that I grew up in Idaho, they often ask me if I am a white supremacist. Of course I'm not! But what else are people going to ask about? Potatoes? Everyone likes potatoes so they pretty much know my answer to that one... Still, I think it is funny how people can just assume stuff like that based off of your location. Like everyone in Wisconsin has to have a boner for cheese, or everyone in Iowa loves corn. If you ask me, that's state-ist. :)

mysterg - I am indeed quite the diplomat. I don't know if I'm quite the right person to solve diplomacy issues on a global scale, though. I mean, I don't really have that "you should trust me and respect me" kind of look. I have more of a "mentally unstable sixteen-year-old with a bad case of facial spasm" look. But maybe it would work...

linlah - glad you liked that part. I've always thought it was a good line. The whole crackers thing is completely true, too.

Homemaker man - thank you - you are one of the people who voted in my poll that the word "fuck" makes things funnier, huh? Just a guess... I think it makes things funnier too - sometimes. It has to be the right usage, but then BAM! You've squeezed about 14% more funny out of your sentence.

angryredhead - thank you! It helps to look at my life as a TV show sometimes. I don't know if it's healthy, but sometimes I just pretend I'm acting and that none of it is actually happening. Is that bad? I think there's a term for that, but I can't remember what it is...

Kritta22 - it's probably for the best. Most bus rides I've taken (yes, I rode the bus a few more times even after that) have involved some sort of crazy person. Some guy got his head sawed off on a bus! (not one that I was on, but on a bus nonetheless...)
I think it is "I have never ridden a bus," but I'm not 100% on that one. "Rode" may be okay. I'm not mad :)

Sorcerer - consider yourself appointed as my personal cheerleader. Seriously, whenever I'm feeling bad about myself I am going to go look for some of your comments and then I'll feel better.

heavealie - okay, maybe I didn't really buy the sunglasses just to look cool... they were just an impulse purchase. I buy things for no reason sometimes, but I chalked it up to my coolness in this instance. Maybe it was subconsciously.

And yes, all of this really happened. My mom can probably vouch for me on most of these :) She hates that I have such an adventure-prone life because it means that she has to worry about me. I just say "Mom, I've got these sunglasses. I'm untouchable."

Thank you for the misspelling catch! Embarrassing when that happens!

mysterg (again) - thank you for the award! I may not propagate it, but I might do it a little while down the road when I'm feeling too lazy to come up with new ideas. But are you sure you want me to tell you stuff no one knows? I get a lot weirder, my friend. A whole lot weirder.

Hipsterkrit - yeah, I said "lower-tier" mostly because I talked about feeling like a celebrity in the preceding paragraph, but also because I wanted to give the illusion that I am too good to be riding the bus. I am... in case you were wondering :)

Allie said...

Wow, I just had to split my comment into two comments because Blogger wouldn't let me post a comment that long... do you even know how much I love you people?? I love you so much that Blogger won't let me express it properly!

Angie at CinemaObsessed said...

Good lord, what an ordeal. Have you ridden a bus since? Because I would have given up on that particular mode of transportation after that.

melissa said...

I almost pissed myself laughing at "I was a cracker with crackers, sitting in front of a brother on a bus that just left Coeur d' Alene, Idaho - the home of the Arian Nations Headquarters."
Great story!

Nikole said...

I grew up in Hayden, ID and the actual location Arian Nations Headquarters (actually, I don't think they own it anymore..) was about 10 minutes from my house so I know ALL about people judging me based on where I'm from. Just because I'm from North Idaho doesn't mean I'm a white supremicist! And I've never even seen a potato farm!

Nikole said...

insert *of the* between location and Arian..

Allie said...

Nikole - you grew up in Hayden??? NO SHIT!!!! I grew up in Sandpoint!

We were practically neighbors!

Nikole said...

I totally did! My parents still live there. Thanks for never coming to any of my neighborly parties..rude.

kembial said...

I've only ridden THE bus twice, but it was from Orlando, FL to El Paso, TX. Then TX, to Portland, OR. That's pretty much a life-time's worth.

A few hard-learned THE bus tips for you guys: Don't sleep. Have caffeine on-hand for extended trips. Allie was molested. I had my wallet stolen out of my pocket! Which is theft and practically molestation all at the same time, considering I keep my wallet in the front pocket.

For extended trips, bring water! And go potty!

I ended up in El Paso, my new home for the time being with no money and no ID, dehydrated and with a bladder infection. Totally super-awesome!