Hello Again My Friends!
I left you hanging at the truck stop last post!
So, we had just pulled into the overflowing parking lot at the Flying J Truck Stop in La Grande, Oregon. Both directions of the I-84 freeway were closed to traffic. The bus driver, a very sweet, gentle man with a strong Russian accent, (I'll call him Viktor), found a place to squeeze the bus in. Then he hopped and and grabbed the microphone.
"Passengers, please remain seated. I am going to go into the truck stop and explain our predicament. I am going to take a woman with me to show peaceful intentions!"
We all chuckled, knowing that our group was quite the motley crew!
Viktor grabbed Mama Bartender and went inside. I leaned my head against the window frame and gazed out into the snow. Semi trucks were parked everywhere they could fit in the parking lot and lined up down the sidestreets. We finally received news that the freeway was closed, not due to weather but do to an active shooter situation. Apparently a man stole a car and drove down the freeway in the wrong direction with law enforcement officers giving chase. At some point, the perp jumped out of the car and started firing at the officers.
Mind you, this is Eastern Oregon we are talking about. Quite a few citizens carry guns. Some of these said citizens jumped out of their vehicles and joined in the shoot out.
The last report told us that the perp was apprehended and taken in. But we should not expect the freeway to open anytime soon.
I was glad they were allowing us to sleep on the bus. It was New Year's Eve. I was hoping to ring in the New Year with my man. But it was not to be so. I spoke with him several times and he reassured me. He did not need me there to ring in the New Year. He just needed me to come back safely.
I was a little bit worried about making it back to teach my students. But the beginning of Winter Term began Monday. Certainly we would not be stuck 3 more nights! Most of the people on the bus were greatly relieved to find out the weather did not have us camping out in a truck stop on New Year's Eve. Only a shootout on I-84! Many of us were from Portland. We just endured the shutting down of I-5 several weeks prior, due to an active shooter/car jacker/driving down the freeway in the wrong direction.
Old hat.
What I hadn't predicted was the drunks. This was New Year's Eve, remember?
I'll get to that.
First, let me tell you what Viktor said when he returned to our bus.
"Hello Friends. The nice people at the truck stop welcome us. But please, be polite. Buy some food, warm up, use the restrooms and the showers if you like. But no talking to truckdrivers please. And please watch your children!"
We all chuckled again. Almost everything was comical in the strong Russian accent coming from this very gentle driver.
Most of the passengers stood up and headed for the truck stop. My friend and I waited for the the herd to rumble through. Then we got up and headed inside. My friend grabbed my shoulder as her tiny feet slipped a big the ice. I slowed my pace and helped her inside.
I tell you what. A hot dog, Doritos and bottled water never tasted so good! The cashiers were super friendly. They commiserated with our being stranded. The manager got out a stack of disposable cups and told us all coffee, tea, cocoa, and soft drinks were free for us. And we were welcome to sit inside as long as we liked.
We huddled over our drinks. I sat by my riding partner. I plugged my phone charger into a charging port. I called my man. Then I ate my hot dog and sighed. If all went well, I would be back in Portland early afternoon the next day.
Viktor stopped by and chatted with us. He said that even if the roads cleared, he would not be legally allowed to drive us until he got 8 hours of rest. The bus was awfully cold. The current temperature in La Grande was -16 degrees.
My mouth dropped. In my mind I was already thinking how this would make a good story!
After Viktor found a place to sit, a young man came and sat with us. He looked very said. He was heading for Portland, specifically to party with his friends for New Year's Eve. I told him maybe they could hold the party until tomorrow? I couldn't think of any other words of consolation. He was in his early 20's, and had been asking all day, "Will we make it to Portland tonight?"
Sadly, no.
But suddenly his eyes lit up. He jumped up and came back with a 12 pack of beer.
"I'm starting now!" he squealed. Several of the other young men, Mama Bartender and Pecker Woman all raised their heads and smiled. Someone said, "Yeah!"
I was a bit alarmed. "Don't drink in the bus", I whispered.
"Don't worry", he whispered back. "We'll drink behind the bus. Wanna come join us?"
I politely declined and returned to my hot dog. Some of us chatted a bit, but it was getting late. My companion's head was descending to her chest. I tapped her gently on the shoulder and said I was going to try and get some sleep on the bus. She nodded and stood up. We slowly stepped out into the frigid cold and made our way back to the bus.
But sleep would not be had. Not at first. Most of the passengers on the bus were well lit and feeling no pain. Even the scripture misquoter seemed quite jovial. He would start again quoting passages directly from Bible, but then when he went freestyle, he would just insert little tidbits about life with his wife and how he would never kill anyone. A little bit less creepy.
We managed to crawl over several people to our seats. There was a lot of hooting and hollering and yelling across the bus, but it started to settle down. I balled my jacket up and use it as a pillow and drifted off.
Suddenly a woman screamed. And another one yelled, "That's disgusting!"
My eyes shot open. I heard Mama Bartender telling someone he had to leave. I stood up slightly to see what was going on. Apparently one of the older gentlemen had too much to drink. He threw up all over himself and the seat beside him. Thankfully it was empty.
He was screaming to in between hurls. Mama Bartender said she would call 9-1-1 if he didn't leave. He gave her a mouthful of slurred expletives and then called Mama Bartender a "puta".
She called 9-1-1.
A moment later, Viktor boarded the bus looking quite pale. He asked what the situation was. Several slurred, rough voices told him that the man got drunk and rude and threw up.
Mama Bartender joined in, "He called me a puta! That hurt my feelings! I want him out!"
But apparently calling someone a puta is not grounds for kicking them off the bus. Viktor asked the man if he had been drinking.
"NO!" declared the man, in between more hurling.
Several peopled mumbled, "Eeeoow". Some people gagged.
Then here come the EMT and police.
"What's the problem, folks" said a very tall EMT in a relaxed deep voice.
Mama Bartender told her version, including the "puta" comment.
I thought I saw the EMT roll his eyes. He checked out the passenger, who seemed quite calm and happy now.
Then the EMT turned to Mama Bartender and asked, "Did you really call 9-1-1 for this?"
She nodded.
Again he rolled his eyes and sighed. He told Viktor it was his call. If he felt like the man broke rules and should be removed, the officers would haul him in.
Viktor said he wanted him off the bus. He was hauled away. With much expletives. He even shoved the busdriver on is way out. I imagine someone cleaned his seats, but they did not ask us to debus.
I must have dozed off, but then some time later, there was more commotion. Yet another 9-1-1 call. I felt really embarrassed for our bus driver. This time Mama Bartender, Pecker Woman and another anonymous passenger were having an encounter with a "noisy man".
This time the officers were not very patient. The noisy man in question had been drinking with them all, but frankly he had been noisy from the beginning of the trip. He had a loud voice, was very friendly and funny.
My bus mate looked at me and whispered "They shouldn't remove him from the bus. I talked to him. He's nice and not causing problems."
They didn't remove him. But we all got a lecture on misusing the 9-1-1 system.
Good grief. Leaned my head against my makeshift pillow, praying we would all survive this night.
And then Scripture Misquoter started up again. With vengeance.
Mama Bartender went into full warrior mode. She leapt from her seat and approached the Scripture Misquoter.
"I've had it with you!", she bellowed. "We've been on this bus together for days. You never stop. Shut the F up or I will call 9-1-1- on you!"
"NO!" screamed nearly everyone on the bus.
Scripture Misquoter looked up at her sadly from his bible. "You couldn've told me earlier", he said with a sigh. He closed his bible, leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.
So did eye.
It was about 7 a.m. when Viktor got on the intercom and wished us a good morning, in a very chipper voice.
"Shall we hit the road friends?"
We all cheered. Even Scripture Misquoter!
I made it back to Portland about 12:30 p.m. I have never been so happy to see gray skies, rain, graffiti and rows of tents.
I was home! My boyfriend picked me up at Union Station.
As I said goodbye to my bus mate, she told me that she had been taking the Greyhound regularly back to her home town of Ontario, OR for over 50 years. And this was the "strangest bus trip ever".
"But you were the perfect riding companion", she whispered. I smiled and squeezed her hand.
I wished her a Happy New Year.
And then practically skipped down the road to meet my man.
You can't make this stuff up!
THE END (of this story, at least!)
Happy Thursday!
Love,
Zita
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