50 Hours and Counting

Well let me just quickly begin by thanking everyone who read my first post ‘Pride of a Nation,’ and hopefully I can continue to capture your attention and ensure that you keep returning to my page to read my rants... 

So I am currently on a bus journey… Yes that’s right, another bloody bus journey, and one which we started back on the 10^th of October, with a total duration of 55, long, arduous hours. Place of departure, Banff! Destination, Toronto.

As you may very well know, there is probably many ways to get across Canada, let’s see… Fly perhaps? No no, to expensive. Maybe travel on the train? Nope, not that either, because we need to save every available sum of money for later and our inevitable fall from grace as our money reserve rapidly dwindles. So there is only one option, GREYHOUND, A bus service which provides rude drivers, psychotic passengers and a lingering smell of urine. Also the only option which we managed to find for fewer than 300 bucks, $260 to be exact. This way we could see the countryside, take our time and enjoy the views of places like the Prairies, which take up just about all of the middle of Canada. Word of advice, just in case you are planning on the same cost effective trip… buy some damn sleeping pills or failing that get someone to perform the sleeper hold on you until you pass out! There’s nothing there, just miles and miles of endless tarmac, which, like acne, just doesn't seem to end. 

          

22 hours into our journey and I awake to the stench of somebody’s morning movement which has gradually edged its way down the bus and is currently invading my nostrils. My back is killing me, and I can’t even annoy Rheannon (my fiancée) because she is still asleep. I swallowed some sleeping pills the night before so at least I managed to get a straight 6 hours, and this news bugs my fiancée who managed an uncomfortable 2 hour snooze. Luckily the bus stops regularly enough so that your legs don’t completely seize during the ride, and in the morning I get off to yet another Tim Hortons where I get the same thing I have got in the previous ones, a French vanilla cappuccino, right now it’s the only thing keeping me sane. I board once more, but now there’s only 33 hours left, I'm practically there!

It turns out I’m not, the day goes as you’d imagine, like spending an entire day with Piers Morgan, bad at the start and just keeps getting worse. But anyway I get through it with more of that French vanilla goodness, and eventually we end up in Toronto, a whole 2 days and 7 hours after we set off from Banff.

Although I don’t give it the best of praise, the journey itself wasn’t actually as bad as I had originally anticipated, I mean yeah your back aches, sure there’s no room for anyone taller than an alerted Meer cat, but think about it, you sit there while someone else drives you! I mean I’m practically Simon Cowell.