Day 3, "The long road home"

Last night Ron called the cab driver, who was happy to arrange a pickup for us to go back to the Greyhound bus terminal.

He was coming at 7.  I set my alarm for 5.  I took my shower, dressed, and took Ron down for something to eat.  He just ate some pastry.  I had bacon, sausage, pastry, and orange juice.  The waitress was very attentive.

We went back up to the room and got everything packed.  About 6:30, the cab driver called.  He was downstairs.

Wow.  I wish I could take him to Houston.

We loaded up and went downstairs to checkout.  That went pretty quick and we went out to the cab.  This time, the cab driver loaded everything as I helped Ron into the cab.

The cab driver stopped at a convenience store so I could get some Diet Dr Pepper.  As I got out of the cab, a man approached me, selling shoes.  I told him "No thanks".

"Aw, come on" he said "Help a guy out."

"I'll buy you a candy bar."  He told me what I wanted, and I added it to my total.  I gave it to him, then I got back into the cab with my four bottles of Diet Dr Pepper.  Never, ever, give them money.  It just goes to the habit, whatever it is.

We got to the Greyhound.  I don't like to say negative things, in general.  I don't like to say negative things about people or people groups, but no one there had a clue what they were doing.  I had to get in line twice.  No one could tell me where to wait on the bus.  They tried to put us on the wrong bus.  They freaked out again, over the wheelchair, until I told them he was walking up and was checking the wheelchair as baggage.

I ended up, with Ron, at the head of "Line A".  Line A had a lot of people in it, all supposedly going to Houston on the express bus.  The non-express bus takes twice as long, eight hours.

A nice young black lady with pink hair let me "cut" and was very encouraging "Here, move him back a little" and I wanted to hug her.  She was really delightful.  Finally, someone came, said the magic words "Houston bus" and said priority could go.  We all ran out to the bus.

I got Ron up the stairs and seated so fast, the driver had to chase us to get our tickets!

Now, I have been to a total of six Greyhound bus terminals.  Austin, Dallas, Galveston, Houston, Reno, and San Francisco.   Dallas was the worst by far.  Sorry, Dallas.  I sure hope I never have to go back.

I had to pee, of course, and it wasn't bad.  The driver did not exit the freeway, unlike all the other times, and they had hand sanitizer.  Ron had snacks and a drink, too.

We listened to music on headphones for most of the trip.  For a while, I had the horrible feeling we had gotten on the wrong bus, but I saw signs for 45 south, and we passed landmarks I remembered from our ride out.

We stopped in Buffalo, Texas, again for a break.  It's a cute little town.

We left Dallas late (just part of the chaos), and got to Houston late.  We passed a wreck on the freeway.

We got to Houston about half an hour before our ride home.  Someone let us into the "Package Express" area behind the bus station and we waited there for our ride (that is the official Houston paratransit "bus stop").  The driver needed directions but showed up on time.

Ron, wisely I felt, took a motion sickness pill.  When the cab came he had to ride in the back compartment, a very uncomfortable ride.  She got him loaded.  Happily, even though she had 2 clients in the back, no one had taken the "good" front seat, so I grabbed that.  We rode around for an hour and a half.

The driver asked Ron a question and he didn't answer.  The motion sickness pill had knocked him out.  She ran over potholes.  She ran over speedbumps.  She backed up (the vehicle has a back up beep), and not a peep or twitch out of Ron.

I talked pets with the driver, then "Good takeout in my part of town".  We finally got home.

All weekend, I had a nagging fear I had forgotten to lock the door to our house.  I worried about it off and on, and kept turning it over to God.  The door was shut, and, when I got in, locked.  The cats were happy to see us, and ate a lot of food.  Biscuit still wanted a can of tuna, though.

I just had to top off the water bowl.

I ate my Indian food leftovers, very good when warmed up a little.  My medication likes Tikka Masala, rice, and pan bread.  My medication likes just the masala and pan bread, actually.

I'm making myself hungry.

So, we're home.  Tomorrow we go to work.