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Dear Greyhound,
Hello. How are you? I’m fine if you were wondering. But last week I wasn’t so fine. In fact, I was pissed off. See, last week I took one of your buses from Victorville to Las Vegas and it was a horrible experience. And I wasn’t in the greatest of moods to begin with. My truck was down (the reason for me taking the bus) and I was going to Vegas not for martinis and kitschy entertainment, but to see my ex-wife and our attorney who was going to deliver bad news to us legally. Ex-wives and attorneys? Not a good time to say the least. That being said, the ride to Vegas wasn’t all that bad. Well, there were some screaming children and it smelled like hot coleslaw and ass, but for the most part is was all right. Sitting next to a friendly good-looking woman did make the ride more negotiable. But I’m not one of those high-maintenance types. In fact, I pride myself in not being a pain in the ass in private or in public. I’m not that whiny cousin or that needy jerk-off who gives the waiter a hard time.
But the ride home was the worst. Apparently, you guys sold some tickets to some folk who possessed extremely foul mouths and were void of common decency. But let me back up. For starters, the bus was almost two hours late. Two hours is a long time when all you want is to get back home, have a nice homemade meal, and hit the sack. And two hours is a real long time when you’re from out of town, lost all your cash, reek of cheap booze, and need to get back home not for a hot meal and some rest, but to save your sorry ass from further lame destruction. Trust me, Greyhound, I know. I lived in Las Vegas for many years and have seen these bastards come into town all hopped up from Who Gives A Rat’s Ass, USA, and leave the desert crestfallen and looking and smelling like A-1 dog shit.
As soon as we hit the freeway around six dudes started cussing. Now, this wasn’t a bullshit or a goddamn here and there. It was motherfucker this and motherfucker that. It was fuck you, fuck your whore of a girlfriend, fuck your ugly stinkin’ mama and your limp-dick daddy, kind of stuff. This wasn’t a burst of inspiration that lasted ten minutes either. No. This went on for two hours. People were cringing. It was unbelievable. And to add the proverbial icing on the cake, the same dude that was standing behind me in the terminal watching porn on his laptop was sitting next to me. I was three pages into Paul Auster’s Timbuktu when the reels started spinning again. Girl on girl action with the volume turned up. So, along with the motherfucker and fuck you maxims these geniuses were dishing out there was the scripted moans of two idiots lapping each other’s parts. It was nothing short of disgusting.
At one point it was so ridiculous, so absurd, I started busting up. Mr. Dueling Vaginas looked at me like if I was crazy. I was crazy. Not even my therapist with her framed degrees in faulty-wired brains hinted at crazy. Fucked up, sure, but never crazy.
Now, hear me out, Greyhound. I’m no prude. I have a foul mouth, too (you probably have figured this out by now). Sometimes referring to some unreasonable person as “difficult” just doesn’t cut the mustard. Such a person would be better labeled an asshole. So, I get it. I understand the need to execute such language. Context is all, right? Sure. You bet. But what was the context here? What warranted such observations? A father with a butter-soft pecker? Someone’s gruesome-looking mother? A girlfriend who happens to be a whore?
Jesus Christ.
Really?
And as for the porn? Again, I’ve been around the block. Good blocks. Bad blocks. For-the-time-being blocks. I’ve seen it all. Still, you don’t get your rocks off on a public bus or in a restaurant or waiting in line at Piggly Wiggly. You just don’t. Go home and beat up your dick. If you want to cuss like a jackass then wait until you get to your buddy’s pad. Or your own pad for Christ’s sakes.
And what was your driver doing while all this went down? Nothing. He just kept looking back at those people in his rearview mirror like if his stupid bus driver eyes would pipe them down by his stare alone. That’s it. No warnings, no counseling, no reprimands, nothing. He didn’t calm them down so they carried on like if it was nobody’s business. At one point you couldn’t blame them. They were like: well, if this dude doesn’t want to police us then, hell, it’s on.
Fuck you, bitch! And your fat ass sister!
Suck my big swingin’ motherfuckin’ dick, homie!
See what I’m saying? This happened. For hours.
Well, Greyhound, I’ve had enough with this damn letter. Allow me to counsel you with some plain old common sense advice: train your drivers to take control of the village. Sit these people down and pass out thick packets of the dos and don’ts of driver duties. Draw up a fancy PowerPoint with tons of flashing colors and graphs and go through the steps one by one on how to manage people and then test their asses until they get it right. Passing grade: 100 %. Anything less is exactly that. Seek excellence. Don’t settle. Remember that people are forking over cash for your services. So get your act together. Be professional. Be considerate. Do the right thing for the love of god! Okay. That’s it. Thank you very much for your time and have a blessed day.
Sincerely,
Reno J. Romero
Rant-a-lot done well, reno!
Hope you sent the letter to the prez of Greyhound.
I hate every single one of those sociopathic bus riders you quote so lovingly.
I *know* I would have got off at the next habitable-looking bus stop, and then aimed to get my heart rate back down to normal range.
Hate to see ole Greyhoundtown burdened with anti-social offense-nuts. Some of my best rides ever have been long ones on Greyhound and talking to folks about their experiences. Even in the bus terminals I’ve had good chats.
jalapeno and sesame chips,
yr sympathetically outraged and ranty friend Judy
judy-
oh, you said it. you know there was a couple that got off at barstow. they were going to san bernardino by way of the east coast. they couldn’t handle it and i felt bad for them. the dude was just biting his lip and his girl sunk her head somehwere in her torso. it was sad.
people suck. and you know what? i can talk a lot of shit. i’m SOOOOO laid back i’m practically dead. but this was over the top, disgusting, and pathetic. oh, well. god bless america!
fish sticks and miller lite,
reno romero
I love you, reno—–you never run outa humour honks!! “his girl sunk her head somehwere in her torso” and “i’m SOOOOO laid back i’m practically dead.”
Too bad you couldn’t humour-honk those lameduds off the bus.
You know what? I hate to hear anybody’s (ANYBODY’S!) music playing when I’m in an inescapable place like a bus or train or plane, or at work.
On airplanes you hafta use headphones so nobody hears but you.
Plus, on an airplane there’s NO way somebody could get away with that stuff you heard and witnessed. NO WAY.
I propose a GREYHOUND TRAVELERS’ BILL OF RIGHT, as follows, printed on the ticket you buy, and posted for everyone to see on the bus, plus the driver reads it before the bus starts up:
1) You want sound? Wear earphones.
2) You want to talk loud shit? You’re out at the next stop; the police will be there waiting for you. No, it doesn’t mean the driver called the cops. It means we’ve got a surveillance camera on every bus, and the driver pushed a button to alert G’hound admin to listen/watch for themselves and call the cops.
3) You wanna watch porn on your laptop? Confiscated by the cops at the next stop, legal porn or not. Point is that your seatmate, who wouldn’t have chosen you for a seatmate in any other universe may not be into porn.
4) READ A BOOK OR STARE OUT THE WINDOWS OR LOOK AT THE BACK OF PEOPLE’S HEADS OR WRITE A LETTER, YOU DUMMIES!
judy-
i love you. period.
You made my day, reno j!!!!!
judy-
you’ve made mine many times. take care my friend and have a swell weekend.
always,
reno j
Reno,
I would actually expect this kind of behavior from every single occupant of “Who Gives a Rat’s Ass, USA.”
(This was a rant among rants, Reno. Memorable. Thanks for the tour!)
why, hello there, irene. and you’re very welcome. watch out for those folk from Who Gives A Rat’s Ass, USA. they’re dangerous. so are those people I Don’t Care Where You Come From, USA. same difference. different area code.
I can’t even fit in a bus. My legs are too long. I probably would have. ComplAined. But planes. And. Trains are so cheap now, buSeS are the transportation of romantic poets.
tammy-
hello, sis. no you wouldn’t have fit in the bus unless you kick the fucker in front of you in the back of the head. so i guess there will be no buses in your future. wait! is there a train from victorville to vegas? i couldn’t say. anyhow, it’s over. take care, man.
text me,
r
Every greyhound trip comes with a free show. Heh. Great write.
I’ve had some hell rides on the greyhound. I remember sitting next to a military guy, over a guy getting out of prison because I thought i’d be safer.
I fell asleep and woke up to the military guy feeling me up. I stood up grabbed hold of the overhead rack and started kicking military guy in the head. Mr Prison guy, pushed past me and punched military guy in the head. Prison guy then told me to sit in his seat and that he would be sitting next to military guy and that if anyone else touched me while i was sleeping that he would kill them swifty and quietly.
Military guy quietly cried for the rest of the trip. The cops met him at the terminal along with military police. I signed a million things in tripplicate, along with prison guy. I thanked prison guy and got back on the bus.
It was the last time i used greyhound to go to the indian territory for christmas.
sheree, this would qualify totally as A TRIP!!!!!!!!
sheree-
hey. oh, lord that is a great story. ha!
‘Prison guy then told me to sit in his seat and that he would be sitting next to military guy and that if anyone else touched me while i was sleeping that he would kill them swifty and quietly.’
oh, that is SO good. i’ve been on many a greyhound bus in my day. but the last time was in high skool which was a 1000 years that way. but nothing has changed. context is all…
thanks, sheree.
always,
reno romero
I’ve been trying hard to refrain from putting personal stories in my comments, but i just had to let that one go. I know the story should make me angry as hell at military guy, but, instead it just made me realize what a jack ass I was to judge people based on their social status. It were a hard lesson well learnt as my auld granny used to say.
Holy shit lady, you’re like a fucking ninja. I love that you made the dude cry.
I don’t think I were the one to make him cry. It were prison guy number br549 mad dogging him and the thought of the cops waiting for him at the next stop.
Sexual misconduct makes me a volatile cunt with country tricks up my sleeve. You’d be amazed at how effective a bic lighter can be when used as a stabbing device on nerve points in the body and face.
Thank God the beauty of my youth is spent, covered with wrinkles, gray hair and age spots. I can now roam the world in peace, unmolested by assholes.
Cheers!
Hey agents,
This guy right here.
Right here.
It’s not just about
bus trips
get it?
it’s about
hot asses & coleslaw
& Reno Romero
fighting not to die
while he’s still alive
saying
hell no!
I will not go
gently
thant’s right, 11. even mr. sensitive has some fire in his belly. shit…
thanks for reading sir. i believe the sorrow of dio’s death has subsided a bit. regardless, i still Speed at Night. i believe you do as well.
don’t talk to strangers,
r
Dio Lives!
When you tagged Piggly Wiggly
you thought of me
didn’t you?
i did. you know i heard of those markets for years and when i was in georgia i saw one! no shit. it was quite a sight and i kind of got excited.
“look! a fucking piggly wiggly. so i guess they do exist. pull over. let’s get some hoop cheese.”
A good round of
Galaga in any
Southern Piggly Wiggly
is a splendid thing
indeed.
love Galaga. I’ll kick your ass at it.
“Hot coleslaw and ass”
That’s awesome in its terrifying grossness.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Greyhound had some policy where they discouraged the drivers from taking charge in this kind of situation, simply to avoid lawsuits. Which would be a horrible injustice to people like yourself, who pay good money to ride their bus with the reasonable expectations that:
1) The bus will arrive (at least approximately) on time;
2) Some code of passenger conduct will govern excessive profanity and other offensive/pornographic activity; and
3) The drivers will have the mental and emotional skill set to manage unruly passengers.
I would think that, as a private entity, Greyhound can reserve the right to deny service to anyone or to take charge in situations that they deem potentially dangerous or disturbing or infringing on the rights of other passengers. Or, even more simply, if they think you could be hurting their business. Just like planes.
When you pay someone for a service and the terms of that service are made known, including infringement upon your freedom of speech, I believe you consent to those terms.
I suspect that man with the pornography must have breaking at least some minor law.
I also suspect that Greyhound is hard up for fares and they probably take what they can get.
However, unless there are Greyhound Bus Marshals, I’m sure the driver was not thrilled at the prospect of that group of people turning on him. Probably easier for him, at the end of the day, to just ignore it. He stood to lose more by confronting them than by not. You know…cost/benefit analysis.
I’m sure you’re right on Greyhound’s right to deny service. Probably by purchasing the ticket, the rider consents to a host of terms that are vague enough where the driver can probably kick someone off the bus for any disruption.
But I wonder if their concern would be exposing the driver to a beating or a lawsuit for taking action against someone being disruptive. So maybe it’s within the driver’s discretion to put up with as much as he or she wants, which in Reno’s case, sounds like an awful lot. I agree with you- the driver probably just took what he/she perceived as the path of least resistance (for him/her).
becky-
hello, there, becky. i think you may be right. and, well, context is all. after all is WAS greyhound. i wasn’t expecting much in the first place. but i don’t expect much regardless…
i don’t know if the porn fuck was violating any laws. i don’t know the law. on buses. in bedrooms. on the streets. something i just don’t pay attention too. the porn would have been far more entertaining if it was midget (little people…) porn. i may have been slightly entertained. may. can’t say for sure. but two gals poking each other is about as entertaining/interesting/turn-on to me and picking up an acre of pit bull shit by hand.
anyhow, happy trails.
r
That’s a rather unique stance, I think. About the unsexiness of girl-on-girl action. I mean, unique among males, anyway.
Unless you’re saying you have some kind of pit bull shit fetish, in which case I say, to each their own.
becky-
hello again. unique stance? really? unique as in one of a kind? i dunno about that. but hey, you never know. i think i may have come across a few dudes that didn’t care for that shit. but maybe they were lieing. it’s possible. men do lie you know. anyhow, like i don’t get jimmy buffett or liver and oinions or the hack comedy of dane cook i don’t get nor pay attention to two or three chicks tugging each other’s bits. i’d rather get kicked in the throat by a donkey hopped up on tweak.
no fetish w/ dog turds. but i must say that i owned a few pit bulls in my day and their crap was heavy, and yes, very stinking. it was one of my chores given to me by my father. he was a thoughtful man that way. good times, becky, good times.
cheers,
reno
Perhaps not unique, but rare, anyway. Maybe it’s just the company I keep. Perverts.
becky-
yeah, rare. you’re right w/ that one. you hang w/ perverts? lucky you. some folk lead charmed lives. bye, becky. you still have a delicious brain. ciao.
I’ll fess up, too: never really been a porn guy, guy-on-girl, girl-on-girl or otherwise. It just does nothing for me.
Perverts, smut-mouths, and generally vulgar sorts with a penchant for shock humor; The Enemy is leading the pack.
Shall I consider the bilingual goodbye the brush off?
I’m just going to keep replying.
I think you guys need some kink your lives…
O_o
That is all…
becky!
you fucker!
NO the “ciao” wasn’t a brush off but just saying, uh, well, goodbye. so, i guess, i’ll end this note with a hello. so: hello, becky. how are you?
r
joe-
you know, joe, it did smell like hot coleslaw and ass. it smelled like a gym. a dirty unkept gym and those filthy dumpsters behind restaurants. disgusting.
i didn’t expect the driver to so shit. and i can understand why he didn’t want to say something. he might have got his ass kicked or subjected himself to verbal abuse so bad as to force him to take a few days off. really.
anyhow, i’ve seen this shit in other places as well. but i come from vegas where you’re supposed to act like an asshole. i can write 20 novels and all the jerk-offs i encountered in vegas. people suck. well, some of them so at least. thanks for reading. hope my coleslaw reference will not make you avoid that delicious mayo/veggie invention.
r
I am retired teacher and can say what did you expect getting on the bus with sixth grade kids?
carl-
i’m a retired teacher, too. not because i hit 65 and i saw the grave rushing to my ugly face, but because the job sucked worse than the bus ride. they were 6th grade kids. you nailed it. these 6th graders had mustaches and olde english breath. divine.
r
Awwww D.
Hot coleslaw and ass?
Did you have to put that in my head? Did you??!!
Love, Z
P.S Sorry about your stinky trip. That sucks.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ-
oh, hello, there!
all apologies, purdy. i know: i suck. i’m the worst. but hey…
i promise when i’m in your presence this weekend i will NOT bring up coleslaw or ass. or coleslaw or ass.
cheers. almost there!!!!!!!!!!!!
xoxo,
d
Dude.
What?
That’s the conversation I’ve been looking forward to the most.
heh. we’ll ask your countrywoman for the OK. or maybe we won’t. are you listening to this, z? ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ! we;;, simon, if we don’t cover coleslaw and ass we’ll cover tons of other questionable subjects. we’ll just see how much trouble we can get into.
No coleslaw. No ass.
z-
yes. double yes. a bucket of coleslaw and a handful of ass. see you on Sunset. i’ll be the ASS in the Iron Maiden T-shirt.
wow, that sounds unbelievably horrible. and i thought smelling someone’s stinky feet during the Prince of Persia was bad.
as for the whole porn in public thing, i really don’t get it. my first trip to the San Francisco public library, i saw a guy watching porn on his laptop. classy.
hey angela-
i don’t get the porn thing either. like i said, i’m no prude (hell, maybe i am?). just not in public. what folk do behind their doors is there business and don’t care in the first place. not my concern. anyhow, the guy reeked of stupidity and malt liquor. good combo.
stinky feet and the prince of persia! ha. hey, that should be the title for your next piece. hmm. okay, angela, thanks for reading. keep rocking and keep your head on a swivel for them laptop types.
always,
reno romero
Timbuktu is a motherfucking great book. Those fucktards owe you bigtime for fuckin’ with your read.
Sheeee-iiiit.
hey!
paul auster is a great writer. if you haven’t read “leviathan” then you MUST! i studied/read that book while at UNLV. the prof was this 5-star prick who had us reading batches of dull shit. auster saved his ass. and the semester for that matter. i picked up timbuktu at the Super Goodwill on Tropicana in Vegas. can’t believe some FUCKTARD turned it in. 50 cents later it was mine. auster, auster, auster.
and amanda, amanda, amanda.
later gator.
yup,
reno
renorenoreno!
Would you believe, I am giving Leviathan a re-read at the moment? Psychic! It’s been my lunchtime book for about a week.
we have it going on.
we do.
now, if we “tune in” to yet another book i’m flying to your beloved country for your hand. it’s in the cosmos. if not we’l get tanked and bean each other with M&Ms. peanut M&Ms that is.
A mutual appreciation for Paul Auster, a shared fondness for chocolate-coated candy, access to warm weather in wintertime (Nevada) and universal healthcare year-round (that’s my dowry)…I’d say the deal is sealed.
done and done. wait! i went to the library yesterday and bought Auster’s “Travels in the Scriptorium.” $1.00. now it’s mine. now, if you have this baby in hand, i’m packing. if you don’t i’m still packing. i like chocolate. and i could use a good full check-up. bye, amanda. YOU ARE NEATO!!!!!!!!!!!!
That sucks, Reno.
But in all honestly, it could have been worse. Remember when that crazy Asian dude killed, beheaded and partially ate a guy riding on the Greyhound with him?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murder_of_Tim_McLean in case you don’t.
matt-
DUUUUUUDE. i remember that. wild. and, yeah, you’re right. it could have been worst. i guess in that light my trip was simply lovely. take care, man. thanks for the comment. and the link. brutal.
headless,
reno
There is no way in hell I’m clicking on that link. He partially ATE him?
I think I’ll stick to the friendly skies whenever possible.
Yup. Violently stabbed him to death, beheaded (and held the head up on display for the other passengers), mutilated the corpse repeated, and ate the eyes and pieces of the heart. Raw.
Gross.
What was he supposed to do? It’s not like there are hotplates on a Greyhound.
True ’nuff.
LMAO Becky!
c’mon dana! do it! ATE! no, i don’t blame you. can you BELIEVE that shit? i mean, really? lord have mercy. have a great day, dana. hope you get your appetite back.
yup,
r
I’m really not sure what hot coleslaw and ass is supposed to smell like…but again your words put me right on that bus! For goodness sakes my friend…If you need a ride to Vegas, next time call me! It may not lead to good writing but at least I have an air freshener in my car!
cindy-
hi. ok, it’s a deal. if i ever need to make another stinkin’ run i’ll give you a buzz. but cindy…are you cindy s? hmm. the desert one married to the smart guy who used to wear large shoes in high skool? if so, well, helloooooooo! good to hear from you. if it’s not you then hellooooo anyhow. thanks for reading.
wait!
if someone told me that something smelled like hot coleslaw and ass i’d be perplexed as well. it’s hard to describe. i guess you’ll just have to trust me on this one. take care, my friend.
go scorpions,
reno jess romero
Well I’m most definitely a Cindy from high school, I did indeed marry a guy from high school but his shoes weren’t very big if you know what I mean. So, I traded him in for much better model 😀 I’m the one you worked with at good ol’ Wherehouse.
I will gladly spare you from the torturous ride on a Greyhound! Why you ask? Because you’re a swell guy….
Go Go HHS!
cindy-
hey! i know who this is now! like on wrote on FB i have a faulty melon. lots of whiskey and WEED sifted through that poor bastard. but i got a flash of light.
heh. i guess this dude had SMALL shoes. too funny. i MAY know what you mean. MAY.
next time i sail back home i’ll give you a holla. thanks for the comment, pal. you rawk.
size 9 WIDE,
reno
Reno, your letter reminds me of a letter I once read written by a guy who was responding to a letter sent to him by the township hall he resides in, regarding a dam on his property that was built without permits. Turns out, he did not build the dam, but beavers did.
Hilarious Reno, you had me laughing out loud.
Jimmy
lyons!
ha! that’s fucking heelarious! beavers. you know i’ve seen some of those dams those fuckers raise. hardworking creatures aren’t they? geez. that’s such a funny story, lyons.
‘without permits.’
hah.
what an asshole…
later, bro. love you to bits.
i love beaver (huh?),
r
You could have called. Asshole.
J/K.
Man, that is one helluva time. Almost would have ended your story better if there was a shootout.
I would have at least imagined one…
asshole. hey, no joke. i am. but you’re a good pal and you KNOW this to be true. i’m goona be in vegas in the next month or so. i’ll find you. we’ll hop on a bus heading downtown and will cuss up a fucking storm. you know, just because.
r
I’ve heard stories about Greyhound.
Terrifying stories.
I’m glad we’ve got you to protect us, Reno.
11’s comment, about fighting to stay live?
You got the one-two combo, brother man.
Just a few days, now.
simon-
hey, man. greyhound stories are universal. just are. it’s an arena for crazy-ass shit to go down. i’m sure those drivers have gobs of stories to tell. could you imagine. i knew a dude that met a girl on a greyhound heading to memphis. no, no nookie went down but the build up to nookie (also known as the f…f…foreplay) was executed. oh, yes. why doesn’t this kind of ACTION ever happen to me? i get porn and the f-word and my buddy’s eyes roll to the back of his skull while zipping over I-40? shit! double shit!
we are so almost there. really, sir. i can’t fucking wait.
Reno – Everyone else has already mentioned this but “hot coleslaw and ass” is such a fantastic descriptor! But sorry for your trouble. I hope you really did mail this to Greyhound.
reno, I have serious reservations about a company that names itself after a super-skinny dog known to be the fastest of all breeds of dogs when trips on Greyhound necessitate 4,000 stops at every town with fewer than 395 residents.
I will credit Greyhound with staffing its stations, though. Compared to Amtrak, which I’ll call LostTrak, G’Hound’s a winner.
LostTrak figures there’s no need to hire people to sit around in their stations and turn on the lights, unlock the door, answer the phone, or provide food vending machines. Nope. You get off the train in Wotsit Oklahoma and the station’s locked up tight like LostTrak’s got the crown jewels in its safe or something. In case you want to phone up for pizza that you could eat on a bench until a taxi spins by, well guess what no phone. No bench. And no taxi. If you got off the train at night, lotsa luck. Just open your suitcase, crawl up inside, and wait for morning.
See what you did to me, reno? I’m usually a happy, positive, outgoing, enthusiastic person, but now you’ve got me in rant mode, man. Why’dja hafta do it, reno? why?
black olives and flattened frog,
Judy
judy-
lord, i’m so sorry for what i did to you. not cool. puleez accept this. you know, i’ve heard that LostTrak has the same problems. go figure. but you know what i’ve found? i’ve found that companies and the folk they hire are incompetent. no shit. i’ve worked in customer service for years and have seen it first hand. hell, you don’t have to be in that industry to know this ugly truth. it’s sad. sad indeed. okay, judy, again all apologies. keep your chin up. don’t let me or ANYONE slow down your chakras. keep ’em spinning. just like all them heavy metal records you have hiding in your closet.
thai tea and pork rinds,
reno romero
I’m better today, reno. Must’ve been the full moon—–and those smoked oysters.
I’ll keep heavying if you’ll RANT when you feel the need. I bet G’Hound stocks went south when you posted the rant. Now traders call the phenomenon “the reno effect”. They’d be willing to to fly you out of LV business class so you’d calm down.
You might’ve heard this vid song that dear Rodent found called “United Breaks Guitars”: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5YGc4zOqozo
a bucket of coleslaw and apple cobbler,
Judy
If I were the bus driver I wouldn’t have played it any different.
Mostly because the guy who did THIS
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/article700732.ece
was in the news again yesterday.
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/article700732.ece
He gets to walk around outside the hospital now.
Think about it .
If I were trapped in that job, and let’s face it in today’s job market quitting any job is not really an option, I would do my 8 hours, go home, kiss my loved ones, and try to drink the memories of work to a hazy goo.
marybear-
great links. thanks a lot. take care.
I use the phrase, “…smells like hot ass” but I have never been creative enough to combine the smell of coleslaw to said smell.
…Until now.
Thanks, Reno.
NOL-
good morning. consider the coleslaw phrase yours. use it any chance you get. thanks for reading, NOL. hey, speaking of smells: i smell football season stirring up. yeah, i know it’s a bit away, but every second that passes means kick-off is that much closer. thank gawd. i’m jonesing. big time. how sad, huh? anyhow, do take care.
hail mary,
reno romero
Damn, Reno! Great letter. I hope you sent it.
I love that the dude was watching porn. Porn on a bus. Excellent. This sounds more exciting than Speed.
jordan-
oh, it was sent. haven’t got anything back though. i’m disappointed. porn on a bus? you know it is excellent. the dude didn’t give a shit. he was getting his. can you REALLY blame anyone for looking after themselves? thanks for reading, sir. dig the hat.
r
“it smelled like hot coleslaw and ass, but for the most part is was all right.” <———– Ew!
My husband and I were on a tour in Mexico and there were a group of guys behind us having a little party. Their breath was so foul of what smelled like days and days of alcholol and eating hot coleslaw and possiby some ass, that I had to keep filtering the smell by putting my hand over my nose. They spoke in Spanish, so if they were using foul language (and I’m sure they were) I could not understand it. On the return ride home they were thankfully sufficiently passed out and seated in the very back of the bus. It’s a horrible thing when you have no escape.
lorna-
ha!
‘Their breath was so foul of what smelled like days and days of alcholol and eating hot coleslaw and possiby some ass.’
…possibly some ass…
oh, shit. too funny. i’ve been on many a flight from CA going back home to Vegas. i’ve seen some parties going on. in fact this reminds me of a flight from Vegas to Sacramento and these dudes were passing around a stack of Playboys. i dunno. travel and porn go hand in hand i guess.
“hot coleslaw and ass.”
i didn’t know when i wrote that line it would be a sick homerun. but that’s what it smelled like and you’re right: ew.
thanks for reading and leaving a comment, lorna. have a great day.
okay,
reno
Nick already scooped me on my own (fairly) recent Greyhound experience.
See you soon, yes, Reno?
I love the title of this piece, Reno. Well done.
It’s hard for me to understand how people can be so intentionally rude, but then again I don’t understand a lot of things about people. I was watching the BBC “The Office” once on an international flight (on my laptop) and on the show it was someone’s birthday and she got this giant dildo for a gag gift. I was mortified a child was going to see it, or anyone who might be offended. What you describe is so far away from what I would consider normal experience that I don’t even know how I would react in a situation like that.
Greyhound should install seat zappers, where the driver could shock the shit out of someone being an asshole. That would totally solve the problem, right? Hahaha.
Hot coleslaw and ass. Man, that sounds tasty.
haney-
see you in a couple of days.
r
richard-
seat zappers! yeah, you bet. it was a crazy situation. and you know, like i wrote, context is all. if you go into a bar you expect to see someone hammered, etc. shocked, sure. but not so shocked. hot coleslaw and ass IS tasty. well…
thanks, sir. take care.
r
There’s nothing like a good rant. Love it.
I took a few Greyhounds around America. I was once stuck next to an insane man who told me he was about to murder the driver and go on a killing spree. I tried to speak reasonably, but ended up jumping off the bus and tell the operators to call the police.
They didn’t.
Another time – in Arizona, surprisingly… – I was stuck next to a bunch of old Republican types who wouldn’t stop talking about why we needed a good war… “so we can send all them coloured people to war.”
Another time I woke up (overnight ride) next to a girl of about 20 who claimed to by a doctor, but wouldn’t stop talking about lesbian porn and all the stuff she liked to do to herself when she watched it… At a pitstop she went out and bought me a bottle of vodka.
There are clearly ups and downs to this Greyhound lark. A mixed bag of fucked-up tricks.
lukewarm coleslaw and taint? You’ve already gotten enough love for that line, but, yeah, that was the one that got me too….
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