I’d like to thank those folks who make this folly possible.
Those people who let me onto planes without a passport, plead with bus drivers not to leave me behind and get the froth just right on my chai latte.
They might be acting out of the goodness of their hearts, but they’re probably just afraid of the crazed look in my eyes. Either way, I give thanks.
The Perilous Road to San Francisco What happens if your cab doesn’t show up and your bus is leaving… now
Trey of Santa Cruz:
Trey, I thought I was a goner until you pulled into Main Street. I thought I’d have to walk to San Francisco. Luckily, you didn’t run Tasha over when she jumped into the middle of the street, waving 40kg of luggage and pleading for a ride.
Trey, you looked exactly like the kind of stranger I was told never to get into a car with. The kind that drives a pick-up truck, wears his hair long and has sunglasses bigger than his face. Thanks for not turning out to be an axe murderer, but most of all, thanks for getting us to the Greyhound.
You bid us to “travel safely girls”. We will Trey, we will.
Alastair of Edinburgh:
Alastair, you aren’t our hero because you held up the bus, or because you carried 20kg of luggage on our behalf.
No, you’re our hero because you thought we were “two flustered gap year students”. Thanks for knocking ten years off my age. It’s amazing how panic and incompetence make you look longer.
And thanks for your wisdom: “I have 100% confidence that you won’t be shot. Except if you’re in Texas”.
Alex our charming bus driver:
Alex left the navy in 1971, after four years in Vietnam. He followed lots of ex-servicemen into a job with Greyhound Buses.
You’re our hero for announcing that we’ve reached San Francisco in a voice that would make Barry White blush. And for waiting patiently and for giggling hysterically while we ran across Santa Cruz bus station with our lives on our backs.