I've posted from trains.
Tonight I'm posting from the lanes.
The lanes? A bowling alley, you ask? Wait, you say, but I thought bowling shoes creeped you out as much as that Satanic ceramic clown you got at the Christmas party. Well, you are right on the creepy thing but the lanes I'm referring to are the lanes of the I684. I'm hurtling along said piece of freeway back to Connecticutistan aboard the Peter Pan Bus. Yes, that's right. The Peter Pan Bus. It's a thing
For any of you who have followed me on the Twitter, you are painfully familiar with my frequent sparring with the faceless and soulless, I might add, Twitter persona of our nation's passenger rail provider. It just never ends well and some times you need to know when as our nation's warmest and most effusive First Lady, Nancy Reagan, said, "Just say no." Tonight was one of those occasions.
Not in the mood to risk the chaos and gambling for departures that is Penn Station on a Friday night, I opted for the relative 'calm' of the Port Authority Bus Terminal and a ride on the bus. Suffice to say, my commute has changed. I used to frequently lament TSA lines, gate lice, and no more warmed cashews in a ramekin in First Class. Don't get me wrong, I'm still flying, just not at the clip I used to. Um, I miss it.
One thing though about flying that tonight's bus ride has reminded me of are the bad old days when smoking was allowed on the plane. It was hideous, right? I pretty much had to incinerate after a flight back to the States from Istanbul where I was seated entirely close to the smoking section. Looks like I may gave to sacrifice the suit I'm in today for much the same reason. There's a bit of at tweeker on board who's, from what I'm guessing, having a bit of a rough go. He keeps sneaking into the onboard Tomb of Horrors, I mean, lav, and grabbing a smoke. It's not good. Not good at all.
This wasn't my first ride on the bus, but after tonight's ride with Smokey Joe, I think I'll go back to taking my chances on the train.