2008 Woodie Awards
Fear and the bus station
Amber Chemam
Issue date: 8/28/07 Section: Opinion
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It was a sunny day in August of 2006 when I departed from Denver on the Greyhound bus. That day, I was well-rested, clean and generally non-emotionally scarred. At approximately 8 a.m., I boarded for home, after an enjoyable week-long stay with my art-school-bound best friend.
It was approximately one day and two hours later that I arrived at the Houston station. By this time, I was exhausted, sweaty and angry at the world. I resolved to never again subject myself to a Greyhound experience.
Flash forward almost one year to the day and I am sitting in the downstairs lobby of La Guardia airport. It is rainy and depressing in New York City and I have just missed my three-hour flight back to Houston.
I am not so much upset that I missed the flight as that I will actually have to endure that flight the next day. That's because I hate to fly. In fact, that's how I ended up on a Greyhound bus the first time. There is something about being two miles off the ground that I just cannot handle. I have faced my fear-- I've flown 5 times in a week while vacationing in Hawaii, lived overseas and even been on a private jet the size of a Chevy Tahoe. I'm still terrified.
So, back to this day in the airport where my unlucky travel companion/boyfriend and I are standing lost and confused in a New York airport. I am going to admit here that because I was, in fact, relieved that I would not be traveling by airplane, I immediately switched into get-it-done mode.
I launched into a speech about why the easiest thing to do would be to simply find another way of returning home. The movie title "Planes, Trains and Automobiles" flashed through my head, and I immediately began attempts to secure a ride home in one of the latter.
Amtrak failed me first as thunderstorms had closed many of the tracks. (And, no, the three-day ride I would have been forced to endure by train did not faze me in the least.) Next, after many desperate calls to every major car rental company in the Queens area, I was devastated by the news that all rental cars were indefinitely sold out.
It was approximately one day and two hours later that I arrived at the Houston station. By this time, I was exhausted, sweaty and angry at the world. I resolved to never again subject myself to a Greyhound experience.
Flash forward almost one year to the day and I am sitting in the downstairs lobby of La Guardia airport. It is rainy and depressing in New York City and I have just missed my three-hour flight back to Houston.
I am not so much upset that I missed the flight as that I will actually have to endure that flight the next day. That's because I hate to fly. In fact, that's how I ended up on a Greyhound bus the first time. There is something about being two miles off the ground that I just cannot handle. I have faced my fear-- I've flown 5 times in a week while vacationing in Hawaii, lived overseas and even been on a private jet the size of a Chevy Tahoe. I'm still terrified.
So, back to this day in the airport where my unlucky travel companion/boyfriend and I are standing lost and confused in a New York airport. I am going to admit here that because I was, in fact, relieved that I would not be traveling by airplane, I immediately switched into get-it-done mode.
I launched into a speech about why the easiest thing to do would be to simply find another way of returning home. The movie title "Planes, Trains and Automobiles" flashed through my head, and I immediately began attempts to secure a ride home in one of the latter.
Amtrak failed me first as thunderstorms had closed many of the tracks. (And, no, the three-day ride I would have been forced to endure by train did not faze me in the least.) Next, after many desperate calls to every major car rental company in the Queens area, I was devastated by the news that all rental cars were indefinitely sold out.