I took a trip down to DC this weekend. It was great (as trips to DC typically can be). I took the chinatown bus to get there. Basically, the buses load and unload in Chinatown(s) and it's a pretty cheap trip: $35 roundtrip.
The ride down there was great. I was reading the script for a play that I was going to see later that night for my thesis. I actually had two seats to myself. It was crafty thinking on my part, if I do say so. I piled my stuff into the seat on the aisle and then looked EXTREMELY BUSY with my reading as people walked by. I know. It's horrible and selfish. It was also roomy.
Cathy and Diane picked me up in Chinatown in DC. I had a great weekend. The play was done well and I managed to get some good interviews afterward for my thesis. The next morning I interviewed the dramaturg. "What's a dramaturg?" you ask? It used to be someone who merely offered historical analysis and interpretation of plays. Now, dramaturgs also offer creative insight. They help with the "vision" of the show.
Cathy and I also went shoe-shopping. I practically had a nervous breakdown in the store: too many shoes. I can't handle it! And how, in a store referred to as a "warehouse" could I not find a pair to fall in love with? Oh my. I suppose I was a bit tired...
The trip home was less than desirable. Cathy dropped me off just before midnight in the ghetto to catch the bus. I tried the same tactic as on the way up, but it was in vain. A couple came up and asked if the wife could sit next to me. The husband helped put all my stuff in the overhead compartments. He would sit near her on the other side of the aisle. I decided to trade seats so they could sit together. I gave up a great seat near the window! Oh dear. For the next four hours my head bobbed up and down as I tried to sleep. I then spent an hour waiting for the subway trains to take me home.
My little lesson in karma from the Chinatown bus.