So here we are, stuck in Fort Worth. What a depressing thought! I could have left Cowtown in time to make my Dallas bus if I had taken the train but I opted to not do that for two reasons: I had paid for a Greyhound bus ticket, and there was no guarantee that the train tracks into Dallas were repaired overnight. What if I took that train, and got stuck on the tracks?
So, I waited for the bus. When the poor, beleaguered driver pulled his bus into the Fort Worth depot he had a lot of angry travelers to contend with. The ones on his bus that wanted a smoke or stretch break, and the ones in the terminal who wanted to get to Dallas and make their connections. The former group won out and, to the ire of we passengers waiting to board the bus, they filled the smoking area and puffed to their hearts’ content. We stood in line for another 30 minutes while the driver did his bit of paperwork. And then came the call to board.
Once we made it to Dallas I thought I was golden. Out of the Black Hole I figured my worries and woes were past; from here on out life and travel would be good. As it turns out, not so much.
Arriving in Dallas, I registered myself at the ticketing window and the clerk told me I should catch the 1:30PM bus to Memphis. So I had to wait the morning out: big deal! At least I’d be on my way. I sent Lisa a text message to that effect. She responded that all was well. She would pick me up no matter what time the bus would pull into Memphis.
The trouble is I never heard the bus being announced. Neither did four other passengers. We eyed the clock with anticipation come 1PM, by 1:25 I went back to the ticketing agent, who informed me I should have been on my toes because the bus was now full and getting ready to pull out.
On my toes! What did this woman think I was standing on? Didn’t she think I was eager to be on my way, after sitting around this terminal whose air-conditioner labored ineffectively to cool the place down for the past four hours? And did I mention it was 100+ degrees Fahrenheit outside?
Now what do I do?
Well, some food would be nice. I tore into the teriyaki chicken sandwich my nephew made for me. Very tasty and satisfying. A banana and a piece of chocolate rounded out the meal. Thus fortified I went back to the ticketing agent.
While I ate my lunch Greyhound had done their shift change dance. Now there was a different agent at the window. She informed me that the previous agent had not entered my name into the computer; therefore the previous bus did not know to anticipate me being a passenger. I started fuming all over again. This agent correctly performed the registering process and now I was officially scheduled aboard the 7PM bus. And what time would that put me in Memphis? Oh, 5AM. Again, I sent Lisa a text message, again her ever patient soul manifested itself. Bless Lisa for her calm temperament and cool head!
And so I waited. And waited. Sitting down became a challenge, both because I knew I would be sitting for most of the night on the bus and also because the terminal was so full. Standing was fun because I could exercise a bit while standing and I didn’t have to worry about navigating crowded aisles with my two rolling bags.
Enter security, who had an authority complex. This man got on the P.A. system every 30 minutes to announce that passengers should be seated in the seating area. Nobody should be leaning against the walls or sitting on the floor and woe to those leaning on the lockers. No bags should be left unattended under the penalty of confiscation. Only those eating food should be seated at the cafeteria tables. An agent (him) would sweep the terminal to make sure everyone complies with these rules.
On his first pass through he instructed me to go to the passenger seating area. I dragged my bags to the crowded passenger seating area and stood at the end of a row of seats. His next pass through he told me I had to find a seat. And why exactly did I have to sit? Do I not have the right to stand, as long as I am within the seating area? I didn’t get a chance to ask him because he was busy confiscating bags that were left by the wall. A man rushed up to the bags being hauled away, shouting that they were his bags. The security guard told him he should not have left his bags unattended, and then hauled them away. The irate passenger followed him to the other end of the terminal, and reclaimed his bags after filling out a lost bag form.
This security guard had no problem flirting with attractive women and allowing them privileges denied to other passengers. Pretty girls could hang out in the cell phone charging area. Pretty girls could roam the terminal; he would even accompany them. I suppose I don’t rate as pretty. I got ‘busted’ twice.
That was just one way he had of toying with passengers. If riders lined up for their bus at gate two, as announced, got too rowdy for him, he would rope off that gate and cause everyone to race across the terminal to the other boarding gate and line up all over again. This was his most offensive game and all of us resented it. Especially those of us who had spent the entire day in this non air-conditioned terminal and at his mercy.
He played this little game with me and the passengers that were supposed to board the bus I was on. The Greyhound agent instructed us line up at gate two, and then he roped the gate off and had the Greyhound agent announce the bus was boarding at gate one. We had witnessed his little game several times that afternoon though. We weren’t falling for it. We stayed right where we were and, come time to board the bus, we boarded it from gate two. He did not like losing what little authority he had. We had no pity for him. Soon enough he would go home, take off his sheriff-looking uniform and become a human being, just like the rest of us. Let him deal with the psychological trauma of not being obeyed by angry passengers in whichever manner he chose. We were getting on that bus no matter what he said.
We ended up standing in line for an additional 45 minutes, once our bus was announced. Did I mention the heat was having a terrible effect on the fleet? Buses were breaking down left and right. Greyhound had to search their fleet for buses mechanically sound enough to drive long distances. They finally located one.
We boarded at 7:45. I sent Lisa a message that we were finally rolling and my estimated arrival time would be 5:10AM. This poor woman! So afraid was she that she wouldn’t wake up in time to meet me that she did not sleep all night. Or, if she did it was in snatches. And she had to go to work the next day!
I blame everything, from Lisa’s lack of sleep to the torture I endured in the Dallas terminal, on that black hole called Fort Worth.
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