lord of the bus stations

i had already drank a lot before i got to the bus station, this is purely unedited, ranting. it kinda goes a little down but it has a happy ending. like the wizard of oz.

location: bust station in tampa
state: not happy
alllllright. my good friend bill from LA drove down to orlando to hangout. after several beers we head downtown for a taste of orlando night life. we make it to downtown and are about to park when we see a non factory paint job ford crown vic, huge rims, plow into a another car at a stop light. big black dude gets out of car, walks up to front of car, does the “omfg wtf” dance in front of his bumper. best visual ever.

we end up at a club named Independence, a huge club, multiple rooms, different music in every room and super hot girls dressed in black. i really don’t understand why i waste money on strip clubs when i can go to any club here and watch someone else’s girlfriend dance but keep her clothes on.

i stuck with beer the entire time but bill and friend keith have other ideas in mind. they start doing irish car bombs. oh yeah, bill’s friend keith is a serious alcoholic, like “i just got out of jail after my 3 dui’s” alcoholic. i always feel so guilty hanging out with people owned by police because of the great luck iv’e had with police, kinda like white guilt but worse. keith is on probation too so if he gets arrested or even have his ID run, the police will know and not be happy that he left the county he’s restricted to. anyway.

i leave bill and keith to get another beer and they begin to thumb wrestle. a bouncer asks where keith’s wristband is, he doesn’t know. bouncer says he has to go to front of bar and get another one if he’s really 21. then they ask us to leave. was pretty good timing since i had already paid my tab.

we get back to where bill parked. he’s driving a racing yellow hyundai turambio or whatever they fuck they call their high end 6 speed 2 door racing model. bill asks if i want to drive. sure, i love driving. especially while drunk.

i forget exactly how much fun driving a standard transmission car was. i somehow manage to get us back to swede’s house, after having to stop and ask for directions several times. when we finally start recognizing landmarks, we stop and buy some beer for when we get home. i stay in the car with keith and bill goes in. a squad car pulls in and 2 angry looking orlando officers walk inside. keith decides he wants to go inside too. after i try to convince him that staying in the car and acting sober, he is 100% sure that he wants to go inside.

i sit in the car and start to build my “i’ve never seen this guy before in my life” story if he comes out in handcuffs. much to my surprise, bill and keith exit the BP without a police escort.

we go back to swede’s, bill and keith pass out in the guest bedroom and i take a short nap on the couch.

we wake up, have a beer and head to the train station. since we have no idea where we are going, i miss my train from orlando to miami. damn. i head with them to tampa and order a bus ticket. it leaves at 6pm from tampa, 2 hour layover in orlando. i get in at 3am.

i call alex and let him know that my plans have been fucked. we eventually find the bus station in tampa and they drop me off with 6 warm budweisers and 2 cigerettes.

i have to wait 2 hours before the bus leaves here too. just me and my laptop and the buzz i still have from drinking luke warm beer.

the bus station here has just about as many characters as a normal bus station has. i am such a target, sitting here with my thousands of dollars worth of hardware. soberiety is starting to sneak in with each minute of depressing internet typing. i really wonder how much it’ll cost to get from the miami bus station to alex’s apartment. i ask alex if he knows remotely where it is and he says he has no idea, says i’ll probably end up in Pylia with a bunch of demons. he’s probably right.

i really wonder how pissed alex will be that im going to have to wake him at up at 3:30am when my bus gets there. i really wonder if i can drink beer on the bus. this will probably be a terrible experience but maybe i’ll um learn something or get some fairy tail happy ending but it’ll probably just suck.

really pissed i missed train, should have went the night before and slept at the station. oh well, like my sober friends always say, you have to accept the things you cannot change, like being sober.

okay, time to pack up laptop, drag my bags outside and smoke another cigerette, bum cigerettes and hopefully meet someone humorous enough to make all of this worth while.

a hour since last typing. smoked last cigerette, a newport, then bummed another cigerette off a cabbie. cigerettes are so stupid. so much inhaling and so much money with so little reward. going to start shaking soon if i don’t start drinking again. thinking about taking a beer from the backpack and pounding it in the bathroom except i really don’t trust any of my fellow bus riders to watch my stuff.

this sucks. i hate places that i can’t drink at. this is american for fuck’s sake. people are dying every second to defend that little freedom i have. we still have a stigma attatched to drinking that all the soldier’s blood in the world can’t repair tho. i think it’s the hypocricity that is really stressing me out, i can go outside and bum a cigerette and get high off legal taxed drug but i’ll go straight to jail if i drink in public.

blah that’s just the bitterness talking. america is great. i get away with more shit here then i probably could in any other imperial nation. i should quit my bitching. after all, life is fine.

and another thing.

location: bus
condition: getting wet, 1 budwesier in stomach, 1 corona and 1 budwesier left in bag

okay, on bus. never been on a greyhound before so im going to just chalk all this up to a new life experience that will make me grow as a human and enhance my soul with new experience goodness.

typing out over and over might actually make me believe in it.

so i get on the bus and win by finding a seat by myself. about 15 minutes into the bus ride it starts to pour down rain, which it seems to do every 15 minutes here in florida. i lean back and think “oh cool, going to enjoy watching it rain from my window seat, very relaxing. i notice a strange wet feeling on my shoulder. sweet, our bus is leaking. we change lanes and a huge stream of water pours from the roof of our bus. the kids in the row above me get soaked. i almost spill my beer laughing. leaking bus for the win.

once we leave the bus station the bus driver gives us a little introduction. he says his name(can’t remember) and says something about how we can’t have illegal drugs or alcohol while on the bus. everyone in 2 rows stares at me, my laptop and my open beer bottle. i give everyone a “please don’t tell, seriously, this is medication” look and they all turn around. i keep thinking of that csi episode where the disgrunlted mechanic at the bus depot sabotages a bus and kills almost everyone inside just because he got fired after being drug tested. stupid csi based paranoia nightmares.

the bus isn’t really as bas as i thought it was going to be. despite the water dripping on my shoulder and the huge gaping hole in the roof that is pouring water on the kids in front of me, it’s not bad. my only complaint besides the water dripping down my shoulder is the smell of the people in front of me but all and all this won’t be a bad 6 hours to spend my evening.

i can’t wait to make new and exciting friends at the bus station in orlando in my 2 hour layover before i head back to miami. i’ve heard wonderful stories of all kinds of exotic sexual experiences in bus station bathrooms and i guess i’m ready to experience one.

laptop battery is about to die, going to have to switch to typing on the tablet in a few minutes. once that battery dies i’m going to finish this update scribbling on the newspaper i bought.

toad did not get all love in the world today.

yeah so the bus and train tickets were the same price but i would have had to sleep in the train station tonight and take the train tommorow morning, which would have been a equally tramautizing experience as taking the bus and getting to miami at 3am.

i think i left my cell phone charger at swede’s. i am ruining my own vacation with my poor life choices. the rain water soaking into my hair isn’t helping. does this count as bathing for Sunday? wow i think i also left my shampoo, conditioner and soap at swede’s also. i am such a fuck up. so glad i have alcohol to blame my problems on.

anyway, i get to orlando, 2 hour layover there. 2 hours is a long fucking time. i force myself to chew down some bus station pizza. i can’t tell if it tastes like shit because im a alcoholic and food never sounds good, or the fact that i just got it from a bus station.

i notice that im starting to freak out since a)i can’t drink in public here and b) i don’t have any power outlets to charge up the laptop and entertain myself.

i rock back and forth and stare around the room. i find 3-4 small pieces of paper and a pen in my bag and start writing random words. it turns into a song which i will someday write music for named Bathroom Blowjob. it’s sad state of affairs when my brain goes into freakout mode if i don’t something to manically type into.

back on bus, sit in back again, drink the last of my warm budweisers and wait. we make a pit stop. finally, cold beer. i run in, grab a “Giant Stick” of Oberto, sunflower seeds, and a tall boy of bud ice. the clerk takes the can and puts it behind the counter. “we can’t sell that to you”. “why not?” “because it’s after midnight on a sunday” . If the damn woman driving the bus had gone like 3 mph more i could ice cold refreshing tall boy. But now i’m doomed to luke warm budweiser. makes me want to puke just thinking about it.


we finally get to miami, but there’s a miami west stop and a miami north stop. luckily i bought the bus driver a cup of coffee at one of the previous stops. i’m standing there with my pda mumbling off street names where alex lives at. miami west it is.

next step, cab ride home

for some reason my atm card isn’t working correctly down here. i have like a 50% success rate. we hit 2 gas stations, card is refusing to work. i call alex and ask him if he has any cash. thank fucking god.

i dart to the elevator, grab the cash, back down elevator, pay my jamaican cab driver.

left orlando at 9:30am, arrive in miami 3:30am the next day. in retrospect after i missed my train, i should have just put on the skates and hit the interstate. would have been faster.

i am a failure at travel

short version

missed train at 10:30am, ride with bill and keith back to tampa. wait 2 hours at bus station in tampa. take bus to miami, get here at 2:45am. it went back thru orlando. i saw orlando twice.

alex is going to wake up tommorow and find me on his couch next to a bloody steak knife.

i’ll post the other 2 articles i wrote while on the bus later.


i woke up to the sound of bacon and eggs cooking. i wake up, wiping the sleep out of my eyes, that terrible hangover that you have for 15-20 minutes before you start drinking coffee or beer.

swede hands me a tea cup of coffee, complete with the little dish underneath it, dunno what it’s called. i check email and get on aim when swede delievers my breakfast.

the picture describes what it looks like it but all the whiskey in the world couldn’t help to describe what you rich people call “breakfast”. apparently a lot of you are so well off that you can afford to eat more then once a day. no wonder terrorists are blowing themselves up.

swede gets back from class and finds me more drunk then he left me. Tonight he says we are going to use ear cones. He said he went to Whole Foods to buy some but were out. The lady at the counter asks if Swede is having “a ear wax emergency”. He says no. Swede wouldn’t lie about this.
She tells him off another hippy organic store that sells them near by.

Swede picks me up to take me to this other health food store in this quest to clean the ear holes. We locate the ear candles and head to the counter. The young woman at the counter is very much what you suspect of someone who works at a organic food store. Nothing more is required.

She puts the ear candles in the bag, not noticing the small cock roach near the bag that she just put our merchandise in. I think, “wow, it’s kinda refreshing to see someone so a bug and not even flinch, loving nature and earth that much”. She makes change and hands the change and reaches to hand the bag.

She makes the most feminine yelp i’ve heard, in and out of the bedroom and jumps a good 2 feet away from the bag. Not happy with the bug at all.

Since i live in my own filth, i pick up the bag and make the “aww you’re a good dog” voice telling it that it’s okay. However in my mind i’m really thinking “wow i get to crush a cockroach, in my bare hands, in a organic food store, in front of one of their employees”.

I start to close my grip and she goes “oh my god, you’re going to take it outside and set it free, right?”

I look at her, then at Swede, then at the bug.

You win this round, earth mother.

I walk outside, marveled at my empathy for this bug and set it free outside.

I’m not sure if the bug being freed at the last moment before death or me killing it would have made a better update but that’s a very old fashioned way of thinking.

The true update lies in the bug’s near death experiences, not mine.

Should have ended this about 3 paragraphs ago.

i love you all


well i got off the train, finished my last unisom bottle shot and laid on the bench. swede calls and says he’s on his way to the train station. i lay back and relax and wait for him to pick me up. i offer whiskey to the 3 women who are watching a portable dvd player. they decline. hate women.

i move outside so swede can make a easy pick up. he calls again and says he’s there and doesn’t see me. i don’t see him. goddamn it.

he’s a different station. he goes to a starbucks and gets online and finds the other amtrak station. i’m laying with my bags on the cool concrete in front of the station. the world is spinning. too much whiskey, not enough food makes possible for arrest. there is another lady with baggage waiting outside with me. i open my back and take off 1 hawaiian shirt and put on a different one, this one much brighter. so swede can spot me from farther away.

a amtrak employee comes outside for a smoke break asks “if i am okay”. i tell her im great. about 10 minutes goes by and i ask her for a smoke. she says she’ll give me one when she’s done smoking. i’ve never told that to a bum before lol.

swede arrives and we go out to eat. wings and several beers later we head out to drink. can’t remember the name of the first bar, very crowded, bad music. we leave and head to a holiday inn lobby bar. yah i know. apparently a old woman sings here and a old guy plays a organ. just the old guy tonight tho. he comes over to our table and shakes our hands. wow swede must come here a lot. the music was intresting.

can’t really write about anymore of last night since thats about all i can recall. i woke up in swede’s guest bedroom this morning. eyes open, where am i…oh yeah. swede runs into the room and jumps on my bed and begins to spoon me. only the covers and a thin piece of cotton are protecting me from having to say “valerie i think i cheated on you”.

really don’t want to end a post like that but..

miami 2-3 whatever

well im leaving miami this morning to go to orlando to visit my dear friend swede. i mapquest out my directions and call a cab to take me to the train station. it takes longer then expected to drive to the train station. i don’t have enough money. we stop at a gas station. my car refuses to give up any funds. i try my visa. oh you need a pin number to get money from a visa. i wonder what my pin number for my visa, do you know? you should apparently.

we get to the train station with minutes to spare and my foreign cab driver alerts me that they can’t accept credit cards. i wonder what cabbies do in this situation of a dirt bag customer that can’t pay his way.

i beg him into accepting a check for the full amount and hand him over all the cash i have for a tip.

why does toad get all the love in the world.

the train station looks fairly familiar and i realize i slept in this train station one night on my last miami visit so many years ago. i laid on that cold marble floor and watched as the tanks rolled into Baghdad, sleeping the entire night listening to the opening of what would soon become such a terrible idea.

i realize now that i’m on the train and all comfy with my laptop and mp3s that i have nothing to mix with my whiskey and my train doesn’t stop for another 4 hours. i have a liter of whiskey in my backpack, no mixers, no cup to mix it in. this vacation has been a good trial run of the final version of my backpack. i need to keep $50 cash in my backpack at all times as well as a cup or waterbottle for mixing drinks.

i’ll be back my precious text file, i’m going to make a few whiskey and waters using a empty unisom bottle i just found. for the win 🙂

wow it’s weird recognizing terrain from the previous Miami trip. how things have changed since then the last vacation to Miami. same body, same mind, totally different life and personality. Same addictions, same vices, all probably worse.

so apparently this train is very packed, we don’t have the usual 2 seats for 1 person like most amtrak trains. a 56 yr old Puerto Rican sits down next to me. i sway back and forth to my tori amos and finally he decides to break the ice. he explains he doesn’t understand much english but he teaches sociology in peurta rico. i reach into my backpack and pull out my 5th of jack daniels, mix it carefully into a unisom bottle and walk to bathroom to add some water since i’m not man enough to drink it straight. Being the gentleman and scholar i am, i offer some to Nicholoas. He raises his pepsi bottle and says “bacardi and pepsi”.

God has a great sense of humor putting people of the same hobby next to each other.

The language barrier and alcohol are owning our conversation. I realize in the first 10-15 minutes that i speak english in a very umm creative manner. I tend to talk with a lot of adjectives. Trying my hardest with the help of drugs and alcohol to add as many descriptive nouns and adjectives to a situation to try to bring you, my reader, into my mental diaster.

It turns out he has learned english from tv and music. I put the headphones on him and make him listen to Mary’s Of The Sea playing on my mp3 player. Total confused face, says it’s bueno. He explains he’s in Miami to buy a car, he buys a corvette from what i can tell. He’s retiring in december and wants a “fun” car to enjoy. His brother is a mechanic in Miami and owns a garage and he got him this car. He goes on to tell me me about how everyone in his town in peurta rico gather every saturday in the one “bar” as i could tell. Here they sing and dance and “young people like me” meet each other. I wonder what the internet is for there.

He explains to me that the highways here are much nicer, and in Puerto rico the front end suspenion gets blown out on most american cars there, thats why he got a corvette, a nice american car.

I give him a crackhore koozie after about a hour of great conversation and try to explain my life. The language barrier totally owns my “i make websites and drink for a living.” crackhore really needs a universal translator for “loser lifestyle”. i show him pics of our memorial day part which i happen to have on my laptop. He sees a picture of wes flicking off the camera. he exclaims “very peurta rican”. He sees the 10 pics after wes of some girl at the party’s ass. He exclaims again “very Puerto Rican”.

the whole time we’re trying this drunk cultural exchange, im getting up every 10-15 minutes to add water to the unisom bottle that i’m drinking out of. i pour about a shot and a half into my unisom shot glass, walk to bathroom a few stumbles away, fill it halfway with water, shake and shoot. from this day forth, drinking whiskey and water from a unisom bottle on a train using train water is known as a “train wreck”.

at this post i’ve had about 5 “train wrecks” on the way to Orlando and still another hour and a half before i arrive in Orlando. the environment outside the train window is very bright and much more alive then it was before all this whiskey. going to lay down for a while.

ugh the amtrak lady said my headphones were too loud. my mp died a while ago so i am listening to rage against the machine’s first album on my headphones. whiskey and water from the unisom bottle. tastes so good. got a hour and a half left on the train. god i hate old white people. like a life of pleasure and winning because of the color of your skin makes you think you’re better then people of your same skin. this lady is really asking for it. everytime she comes by she asks for my ticket, like there are 3-4 drunk webdesigners back here trying to trick her out of tickets. why can’t you die and stop voting republican and let the rest of us holy humans get on with their life. i guess i’ll be that bitter when im 70 yrs old building sites. be mean to anyone younger then me sounds like a great lifestyle. god fucking cunt. worst problem is she’s probably been with amtrak since the beginning so it’s hard as hell to even get a complaint sent up about her.

i am pretty drunk, almost to orlando, thank god. i am so surprised i got to my train on time. jesus was throwing me props today, for the win. i really need to eat when the train stops. it usually goes eat, pot, sleeping pills, alcohol, sleep. today it’s been wake, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink and hopefully win. god this isn’t making any sense.

wait wtf is she listening to

i had to post about this, the story is spreading through aim so i better go ahead and get it on official record.

valerie and i were coming home from the movies sunday and we pull up to a pretty large black woman, really feeling the music she’s listening to.

a pause in our album hit and we hear what she’s listening to.

it’s the new system of a down.

a little weird for a large memphis black chick, we both laugh a little bit. we notice she has a kerry sticker and a herenton sticker. it’s like saying i

timewarner cum tastes like peanuts

i call timewarner last week to get internet and cable hooked up at my new apartment in memphis.

“oh i’m sorry, since the people who lived there before havn’t returned their equipment yet, you have to take a receipt from MLGW and your lease to one of our offices to prove you live there”.

I drive downtown Friday to go to MLGW. We stand in line for 45 min to finally get a little slip of paper that says i live somewhere. Then i drive to Timewarner’s office.

The parking lot is overflowing with cars. People are parking on the street. The line snakes around the office, full of pissed off Memphians, slaves to the great Ted Turner empire.

We stand in line for about 45 minutes before we finally get 1 of the 2 people working there. We stand at the counter for another 45 minutes while the lady tries to figure out how to turn service on when someone else already has service there. We can feel the hatred of everyone behind us because now that there is only 1 person helping everyone else, slowing the process even more.

Almost 2 hours of my life i can never get back later, we leave with a modem and cable box. Cable box works on both jacks, modem doesn’t.

Timewarner’s call center closes at 6pm, roughly the time i get home and discover that i am fucked. They open Tuesday. Now i have a tech coming on Friday to probably charge me $30 to turn my cable on.

I fucking hate you timewarner. You just constantly make your service more and more of a hassle, forever just testing the limits. The punch line is that timewarner owns memphis, no other competition or choice for broadband except bellsouth. Bellsouth isn’t a great option either.

I treat my customers like crap but no where near the level timewarner does. It kills the darwin aspect of business, leaving us wrapped in red tape and no internet access.