"The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult, and left untried." - G. K. Chesterton

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Greyhound New Year's Part II

I did not meet the person I felt that God had in mind in booking me a ticket on Greyhound until I made my first transfer. I had already eaten the turkey sandwich and carrots that I packed myself for lunch and about 6 hours into the trip I was feeling pretty hungry. I didn't know if the next Greyhound station would have anything more than vending machines, such as the stupid machine that ate my dollar and gave me nothing when I tried to buy peanut butter crackers. That was my only dollar and I had no change, so my hopes of food were getting slim.

Thankfully there was a small restaurant at the next station. I lugged my large rolling bag, topped with my heavy heavy carry-on complete with laptop, hairdryer, my favorite books (all heavy items and stuff I didn't want anyone to steal!), to the counter to order. My choices did not look very appetizing- soggy and greasy looking fried chicken, hot dog (which never looks good to me), low quality hamburger, etc. I decided if I was going to eat bad food, I'd just eat food that I already have a low opinion of, so I got the hot dog and tried to add healthiness by getting cranberry juice and a banana. Then I went to make sure I hadn't missed my bus.

You never quite know what's going on in the structure of Greyhound which falls somewhere between chaos and disorder. Nobody ever knows when the bus is leaving, or where to line up, and everyone is lagging from one line to the next worn, hungry, tired, and carrying life's sorrow and burdens. You get the sense that everyone on that bus has seen hard times in life and you could spend the greater portion of your enormously long ride listening to them.

I realized I had time to go to the bathroom again- which by the way reminded me of my travels in 3rd world nations because there was NO toilet paper! Hello, how is there absolutely NO toilet paper in any of the stalls of the ladies' room in AMERICA?! Anyway, so I go to wash my hands, and drop my bag of food on the floor. Gross. And the lid of my cranberry juice snapped so it spilled all over the floor. Now I am cursing, trying to salvage the juice, and trying to manage my uber-heavy luggage. And not miss my bus.

That is the state I was in when I met Lamont. He was standing in front of me in the line that I realized was the one for my next bus. The only reason I spoke to him was because he didn't move when the line advanced. And also I wanted to make sure I was in the right line. I spoke to him and asked him where he was heading. Way father than me. He had a ski cap with the plastic hook still attached to the top, a heavy coat, and some of his belongings in a plastic trash bag. God told me to give him $20 of the only $50 I had left. I knew he was the person I was supposed to meet.

I said, "God told told me to give you this." He said, "Oh thank you, God bless you!" He made sure to get a seat by me and offered to help me with my heavy carry-on. I asked him a bit about himself. He didn't know where he was going to stay when he got to his final destination and said he was looking for work. I told him a bit about my struggles and said, "I know God loves you and wants to encourage you. Can I pray in agreement with you for God to find you a place to stay and people to help you find work?" So he agreed to pray with me and stuck out his hand to clasp mine- the hand which he had just used to blow his nose- so I deduced he had a cold. My friend's words about washing my hands often came to mind. I decided to just pray with the man, consciously not touch anything with that hand, and then wash it at the next stop.

Lamont didn't want to talk in depth about his life and there was a chatty Turkish man behind me, so I talked to him for a while. He told me he was going to a training to complete his commercial driver's license. He could make a lot of money driving a truck and he was very excited that the company was paying for his training. We spoke a lot about Turkey. His vocabulary and grammar were good, but his accent and the way that he smushed all his words together in a sentence made him difficult to understand as I craned my neck behind me to listen to him with his face shoved between the two seats on my row. He said he didn't have friends. He told me he had a wife in Turkey, but they got divorced, but now they talk every night and he might marry her again to bring her to America once he becomes a citizen. He was so pleased to talk to me he gave me one of his sodas and offered me his food. I said I like pides (like Turkish pizza) and he said he was sorry that he had already eaten the one he had brought because he would've given it to me! By the end of the bus ride he was offering me an all-expense paid trip to Turkey. "Maybe in the spring of next year you can come to Turkey with me. I will buy your ticket. Will you contact me and I can take you to Turkey?"

Hahaha. Knowing me I'll actually go!

And that ends the tale of my 2nd bus ride.

No comments:

Post a Comment