Homeward Bound started with food poisoning.
I traveled for 19 weeks in places like India, Egypt, and Turkey and routinely ate food from street vendors and hole-in-the-walls. I thought my stomach could handle anything.
Apparently “anything” does not include a ham and cheese sandwich from a train station in Marrakech. That sandwich took a few hours to affect me, but when it did I began projectile vomiting in the Madrid airport bathroom, in the Madrid metro station, and on my sister’s terrace. Not pleasant, and I was distraught because I had to catch an 8:54 a.m. flight the next morning.
Still feeling the ravages of food poisoning, I woke and walked from my sister’s apartment to the metro. I got lost on my way, which is improbable; it’s literally one block away. I should have been at the hospital with an IV hooked in my arm and was practically hallucinating.
Once at the airport, it took too much effort to stand while waiting to check in. So I sat on my backpack and scooted along the floor as the line moved. When I finally reached the check-in desk, I requested an aisle seat close to the bathroom.
Luckily, I felt better by the end of the day, and I got to sit next to Alex from Russia on the plane. This was Alex’s first international flight, and his first time in America. I do not know who was more excited to arrive in NYC, me or Alex. I have never seen anyone so giddy about the Big Apple.
I helped Alex fill out his customs forms and realized how much more compassionate I am toward foreign visitors after being one for nearly five months.
Next, I caught a Greyhound bus from New York City to Savannah. I’ve never ridden a Greyhound before, and my immediate impression was that waiting in the Manhattan Greyhound Station is 50 times more shady than sleeping on a park bench in the Czech Republic.
These were some of the conversations going on around me:
“Jeremiah, you get over here now or I’m gonna SLAP you!”
-Woman to her disobedient son
“That bitch, she stole my car! I’m gonna KILL that bitch!”
-Man in a trench coat to a man in a trench coat
“I got yo’ money. Aight, meet me behind Tyrone’s place.”
-Man on phone, possibly to a drug dealer
“Oh yeah, baby, work that ASS!”
-Man to obese, legging-clad girlfriend who was performing a “shake my ass on your crotch” dance move.
Overweight children sucked on sugary beverages, attacked economy-sized bags of Cheetos, and text messaged friends on their iPhones. Please explain to me why a nine-year-old needs an iPhone? Or rather, why a family that can afford to buy all three of their under-10 children an iPhone is taking the Greyhound from New York City to Oakland, California, instead of flying?
Was this really the America I missed so much?
The Manhattan Greyhound Station made me understand why we’re losing our economic edge to countries like India and China. With that said, I predict that cross-country bus and train companies are going to undergo a revitalization in America.
When purchased online three weeks in advance, it cost me $79 to take the bus from New York City to Savannah. Meanwhile, I would have paid approximately $250 or $300 to fly the same distance. Of course, bus travel is more time-intensive, but if you travel overnight you might sleep away seven or eight hours. To pass the rest of the time, there is free WiFi onboard.
