Dear Albany Bathroom: Please Don't give me AIDS
Never try to Write after Nyquil
I thought about publishing this while at the Albany bus station but that would entail connecting to the Albany bus depot wifi and I feel like that's about as safe as sitting on the toilet here without squatting. Seriously.
In light of my inability to sleep on buses I decided to take a little Nyquil in order to sleep. Good choice, but I think I might be slurring my words right now. I certainly can't type properly. I just wrote "publishishing." Right.
"Last call for 202," says the bus driver.
I almost just got on the wrong bus. Fantastic. I'm happy though. I met two travel buddies. Mark from Ottawa (who did the carpentry program at Algonquin in Perth) and the girl standing in front of me in line, who is quite nice, though a little butch. Mark has been living in New York for six months working as a bicycle messenger. That is super cool. I wish I could do something that exciting.
I've discovered that the best bus music is that of The Decembrists. Maybe it's because I don't know any of their endearingly mellow music, but the fact is that I did finally fall asleep about half an hour ago, only to be roused from my slumber to spend half an hour in this hellhole that is Albany.
I was thinking about something while travelling through the Lincoln tunnel. It may have just been the hallucinagenic effects of Nyquil (of which I hold there are many), but I feel like driving at night is something that perfectly mimics the flow of time. All you can see are the lights rushing past the window and suddenly you feel as if you're perfectly static in a rushing stream of light. Kind of like retro renditions of time travel. I feel like that about time when I'm on the bus. I can see the destination, I know where I was, and I feel as if I'm in a state of limbo until I get there - how terribly surreal.
* * *
At three a.m. I am woken by a screaming child. I may or may not have been sleeping, I don't really know. Really? Really? Who gave this child chocolate? Who decided that the candy bar was a better choice for a snack than the bag of chips? For God's sake, people. Let's think before we wire our children up, shall we? No!I see you at that vending machine! NO! For the love of all that is holy, do NOT give that child that chocolate bar.
Alright, he's pretty damn cute. He just tried to eat his little sister's face. That's almost cute enough not to be killed by me. He and his sister are half asian. Little half asian girls with pigtails are the cutest ever. (We're at the border, by the way. Perhaps Dad should take the kid outside and let him run around in the freezing cold for a while, hmm? Yeah, that should do it.
* * *
It's around 5am. We're arrived in Montreal in time for the Ottawa bus only to learn that there is, in fact, no 5am Ottawa bus. Good thing I have my handy-dandy netbook so that I don't go loco and take out my rage on anyone... Where is that little boy, anyhow? Seriously, though, people, control your children.
A man has just fenced us off from the doorway. Does that mean we have to move? My bag is quite comfortable and I would be very unhappy if I had to move at all. WHY IS THIS BUS STATION SO SKETCHY? We're standing. I see it is time for standing now. I don't want to stand. Why are we standing? You know, if we all choose to sit, we can be all in this together... hmm? How does that sound, Mark? What about you, handsome fellow sitting behind me? Alright, we're sitting. Peachy.
I hope you all like this flow of consciousness thing because it's the only thing I can do without screaming at five am. Also, thank you to Zack for your music. Nothing cheers up the Montreal bus station in the wee hours of the morning like some Benny Benassi. Mm.... I can pretend I'm out having a good time rather than stuck in a bus depot doing nothing. I wonder how these people would feel if I started an impromptu dance party. *Looks around* They do not seem like the dance party type.
I wish I could elaborate on my whole "Flow of time" thing. It's just a wierd feeling, you know? Back in the day I used to wish the things that I was doing could just be skipped. As in, suddenly I could be forward in time and could have no recollection of the boring things, kind of like in that Adam Sandler movie. I THINK I HAVE SUBCONSCIOUSLY BEGUN TO DO THIS. I am so conscious of the fact that these memories will be practically erased from my consciousness that I pay them absolutely no heed. Almost eight hours have passed and I have neither recollection nor memory of this passed time.
Methinks the Nyquil takes its toll.
Okay, Benny Benassi. You need to be turned off right now.Ah, a little Coldplay. How calming. Oh, hey. I'm right at the start of the line. Huzzah! I think I'm going a little bit stir crazy. Look at that, people. Look at that clock. Thirty six minutes have passed since I have sat down and I have absolutely no recollection of this time passage. There is something wrong. I know that in what feels like a moment (or it will once I'm there) I'll be coming back home to school. A few minutes after that and I'll be done the school year, and then college, and then a few more and I'll be old and I'll die. This is very disconcerting. With every minute that passes my memory is condensed further and time, relative time, is ever so much shorter. When I was younger everything took forever. Now it is gaining speed exponentially.
Of course, this begs the question: does time exist at all? Trippy. I haven't learned the answer yet. Perhaps one of my classes this year will tell me. Dear Mr. Professor: does time exist? Why yes, dear student. Time is a dimension. Great, problem solved. Wait, what the hell does that mean for me? I know, I'll go and watch that ten dimension education video again. That will tell me.
The time is now 8am and I am sitting in the Ottawa bus depot waiting for mother. I managed to sleep some on the way here so I may not have to kill myself in four hours when it's time for work anymore. Funny story: I picked up a bottle of vitamin water when I rolled in just a moment ago and imagine my surprise when I realized that it's sold as a medication here. Go figure.
Alright, time to go home. I hope you enjoyed my sleep deprived ramblings.