Let yourself be silently drawn
by the stronger pull of what you really love. -- Rumi
Dear Readers, I FINALLY broke the barrier, somehow sneaking across the Mississippi and making it safe and sound to St. Louis.
Now, it's true: I wasn't all that thrilled about the prospect of wandering, once again, through the often described Gateway to the West. It's entirely possible that my stubbornness related to my desire to avoid St. Louis... simply because I wanted to breach the western lands at a different location... is part of the reason why I always seemed to get smacked back from crossing the river in the first place.
It's also entirely possible that the universe really IS out to get me; or, at the very least, out to push me in ways I'd rather not go. But rather than feed THAT paranoid little thought...
When I got here I was in no real hurry to jump back onto another bus. After all, I want leisurely travel, I want to be able to not have to rush around a whole lot, unless there's no option.
by the stronger pull of what you really love. -- Rumi
Dear Readers, I FINALLY broke the barrier, somehow sneaking across the Mississippi and making it safe and sound to St. Louis.
Now, it's true: I wasn't all that thrilled about the prospect of wandering, once again, through the often described Gateway to the West. It's entirely possible that my stubbornness related to my desire to avoid St. Louis... simply because I wanted to breach the western lands at a different location... is part of the reason why I always seemed to get smacked back from crossing the river in the first place.
It's also entirely possible that the universe really IS out to get me; or, at the very least, out to push me in ways I'd rather not go. But rather than feed THAT paranoid little thought...
When I got here I was in no real hurry to jump back onto another bus. After all, I want leisurely travel, I want to be able to not have to rush around a whole lot, unless there's no option.
(There's almost always an option.)
So I considered my options.. after eating a chicken sandwich and drinking a much needed cup of coffee.
Now, the coffee wasn't great. But it was of slightly higher quality than the grainy vending machine coffee at the Louisville station. And, without caffeine... specifically without COFFEE... I sleep or turn into a giant puddle. It was perfectly fine to sleep on the bus, since driving from Nashville, through Western Kentucky and Southern Illinois held very little appeal for me.
But once off the bus, I had to think.
Initially, I was under the impression that there was no direct Greyhound Bus route from St. Louis to Hannibal... even though it's only a couple of hours away. Frustrating, but not surprising. I mean, it's only the boyhood home of one of America's most venerated writers. And it's not as if anyone reads, outside of class or requirement... except, dear readers, you dear and sacred few.
So I looked through the schedule and found a loophole.
I could hop a bus to Kansas City and backtrack; but that would add almost two hole days of travel time, and the 60 days on my Discovery Pass are ticking. Then I looked and saw that I could do the same thing, only go to Columbia, Missouri, which was closer, and would only add a day.
I verified to bus schedule with the ticket counter. After that, I noticed my phone needed charging, so went in search of a plug, finding one in the large hall heading towards the bus gates, near the floor. So I dropped my stuff, popped a squat on the floor, and plugged in my phone.
Not long after that, however, a member of the cleaning service came by and told me I wasn't allowed to charge my phone there. She barked the words more than spoke them, like she had barked them a lot. Before I had a chance to ask WHERE I might charge my all too necessary cellular phone device, she asked whether I was on the bus or the train.
"On the bus," I said.
"There are courtesy cell charging stations near the bus gates," she said, waving a latex gloved hand towards the bus gates behind her and rushing off. Not wanting to be a problem, I unplugged, unpopped my squat, picked up my blue bag and my coat, and walked over to the bus gates, where had come in through only an hour or so before.
A note about Courtesy Stations: Nice idea, bad follow through. The plugs are always stripped and sometimes you have to go through several to find one that carries an electrical current. If you're lucky, though, where there is a courtesy charging station, there's a hidden wall plug that's in good shape. Usually behind a fake tree or a a bench. Just look. It can't hurt.
While I was charging my phone, however, I looked up from where I was sitting and noticed this:
That's right, Dear Readers. Greyhound doesn't have a direct route to the land that spawned Samuel Clemens. But Burlington Trailways does. I dug my netbook out and looked them up. There was only one bus, and it left at 7:30 in the morning. (I later confirmed this again at the ticket window.)There were no other schedules; but it was a two hour trip with no stops. Then I looked up to make sure that Burlington Trailways is one of the bus lines that accepts my Discovery Pass... and moreover, upon asking, I learned that I didn't even need a boarding pass.
So even though I'm once again spending the night in a bus depot, I'm not losing any time in my trip to Hannibal, where I'll spend the day tomorrow and hopefully hop another bus, headed either to the Ozarks or some other point west.
Sleep well, Dear Readers. And with one eye open.