You're a budget traveler about to go see the world and do amazing things? Well then, you have to budget your money - so why not take the Greyhound? Because it's just awful. Truly, truly awful. Sell your body and use the money for a plane ticket.
From New Orleans of all places, I elect to take the Greyhound bus to Austin. Why? The Amtrak takes a really bizarre route via Dallas and for some reason Southwest tickets to Austin were a million dollars that weekend. The Greyhound bus station in New Orleans, Louisiana, USA is very pretty. Newly renovated and decorated with some decent modern art depicting scenes of our (American people) journey westward, it's spacious and well laid out. However, it's as organized as a peewee soccer game, if you gave all the little kids meth first.
There are lines with signs for no discernible or relative reason. The information booth offers just about everything but information. There's a gentleman wondering around in home-customized Greyhound station clothing not really doing much of anything. And the loud speak barks out coded announcements in Klingon. How do you add to this already delightful hodgepodge of nonsense? Street people! Enter beggars from Central Casting but with 3D smells! Is your bus late? Early? no one knows! Where might you go to board said bus? Not a clue! The whole damn thing is like the bad acid trip scene from Easy Rider.
We, my new friends Humphrey and Tawney (maybe), board the bus for Houston around the time we're supposed to and one thing becomes immediately apparent. The bus' air conditioning fan system leaks directly on everyone's heads. So they've come to the conclusion that 3M's Scotch Tape is the remedy. Though it's clearly (no pun intended) not, but they've attempted it again over the same spot... a few times. Not ONE Greyhound employee who's come in contact with Bus Number 133 has grabbed the duct tape instead of the Scotch tape. Or even thought about maybe reporting the problem to some type of maintenance, fix-the-problem, sort of person.
Nope. Four-to-five payers of Scotch tape. (and probably not 3M come to think of it) 55 smelly sardnie people crammed into Bus Number 133, which leaks, and road in grumpy, sweaty silence all the way to Houston. If you end up doing something in life like scamming millions of people out of their social security money, or inventing Collateralized Debt Obligations or building a small New Mexico ranch for kidnapped children, and you end up hating yourself the proper amount for said action(s) - the Greyhound from New Orleans to Houston is for you.
Me? I was just a dude looking to save a couple bucks at the start of a long journey.
What's the picture below? Oh, after the Death Bus from Hell that Leaks and Smells got to Houston, there was a lovely two-hour wait for the shiny, clean, refreshing, life is wonderful bus to Austin. During this wait, a VERY sassy and slender young man who works the ticket counter used the word "bitch" in reference to one of the large, even more sassy black women in line. It went over poorly and all but a fistfight took place. Cops were called, the lackluster Greyhound Bus Station Color Guard came out for a moment. It was a good time.
From New Orleans of all places, I elect to take the Greyhound bus to Austin. Why? The Amtrak takes a really bizarre route via Dallas and for some reason Southwest tickets to Austin were a million dollars that weekend. The Greyhound bus station in New Orleans, Louisiana, USA is very pretty. Newly renovated and decorated with some decent modern art depicting scenes of our (American people) journey westward, it's spacious and well laid out. However, it's as organized as a peewee soccer game, if you gave all the little kids meth first.
There are lines with signs for no discernible or relative reason. The information booth offers just about everything but information. There's a gentleman wondering around in home-customized Greyhound station clothing not really doing much of anything. And the loud speak barks out coded announcements in Klingon. How do you add to this already delightful hodgepodge of nonsense? Street people! Enter beggars from Central Casting but with 3D smells! Is your bus late? Early? no one knows! Where might you go to board said bus? Not a clue! The whole damn thing is like the bad acid trip scene from Easy Rider.
We, my new friends Humphrey and Tawney (maybe), board the bus for Houston around the time we're supposed to and one thing becomes immediately apparent. The bus' air conditioning fan system leaks directly on everyone's heads. So they've come to the conclusion that 3M's Scotch Tape is the remedy. Though it's clearly (no pun intended) not, but they've attempted it again over the same spot... a few times. Not ONE Greyhound employee who's come in contact with Bus Number 133 has grabbed the duct tape instead of the Scotch tape. Or even thought about maybe reporting the problem to some type of maintenance, fix-the-problem, sort of person.
Nope. Four-to-five payers of Scotch tape. (and probably not 3M come to think of it) 55 smelly sardnie people crammed into Bus Number 133, which leaks, and road in grumpy, sweaty silence all the way to Houston. If you end up doing something in life like scamming millions of people out of their social security money, or inventing Collateralized Debt Obligations or building a small New Mexico ranch for kidnapped children, and you end up hating yourself the proper amount for said action(s) - the Greyhound from New Orleans to Houston is for you.
Me? I was just a dude looking to save a couple bucks at the start of a long journey.
What's the picture below? Oh, after the Death Bus from Hell that Leaks and Smells got to Houston, there was a lovely two-hour wait for the shiny, clean, refreshing, life is wonderful bus to Austin. During this wait, a VERY sassy and slender young man who works the ticket counter used the word "bitch" in reference to one of the large, even more sassy black women in line. It went over poorly and all but a fistfight took place. Cops were called, the lackluster Greyhound Bus Station Color Guard came out for a moment. It was a good time.
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