Indeed, riding the dog, again.
Except that it's not Greyhound - - exactly.
The Denver-Billings route used to be served by Trailways - -
which was bought out by Greyhound - -
which became Powder River Trailways - -
which went broke as bus ridership declined over the past 20 years.
Then the federal government and states provided subsidies to keep essential routes - -
which operate from time to time depending on funding and operators.
So yes, it is riding the dog, even if it is not quite Greyhound.
Bus service is usually the last form of public transportation available to rural communities. Passenger train service disappeared decades ago. Airline service to small regional cities is meager and sporadic. And when bus service goes, there is no longer any means of public transportation for these communities and for people without automobiles who live there.
* Credit to Valley Girl from Boulder for the oh-so-perfect expression
But it is a challenge.
Intercity bus service is a money loser on these routes.
And the typical mix of passengers on the bus is a challenge -
to the driver and to any potential middle-class riders.
A three-hour bus ride is a sociological adventure, at best.
I cannot imagine enduring a three-day cross-country trip.
Even before we left Douglas, Wyoming, a young woman was escorted off the bus.
Staggering. Meth? Ludes? Definitely alcohol. The driver called the police and 911.
She fell into a coma. One can only pray that she survived.
After negotiating my way down an aisle that was as sticky as Super Glue,
I chose a seat with a minimum of rips and crushed chips.
I smiled at the passengers already seated. Some smiled back.
Many had few teeth - even young people in their twenties.
And yet, everybody had a smart phone.
Teeth are optional, a phone is not.
Between the live conversations and the phone conversations
I heard a full year's supply of the f-word.
I am hardly a saint, but it was overwhelming.
We stopped for 15 minutes in Casper.
Everybody got off to have a cigarette.
I think I was the only person not smoking.
And lots of people were drinking - despite the young woman's coma.
Bragging that they knew how to hold their liquor or mix various substances.
Malt liquor in paper bags. Pint bottles.
There was a young Mexican family - mom, dad, and toddler - who spoke little English.
They were clean-cut and sober. They kept to themselves.
They were clearly uncomfortable and frightened, but calm.
I spoke with the woman in front of me.
She had gotten on the bus in Grand Junction, Colorado just after midnight.
It was now late afternoon. She would get to North Dakota the next morning.
30 hours just to see her daughter and her grandchildren.
She hadn't seen them in years.
It was hard to notice the scenery outside the widow
because there was always something going on on the bus.
And the driver was more tolerant that I could ever be.
I could only guess that this was a rather average run for a bus driver.
I couldn't do it.
I rode down to Douglas with my sister to have a few extra hours with her.
Visited a friend who I hadn't seen in years.
I thought that taking the bus back to Buffalo would be rather innocuous.
Not actually Greyhound. Not the I-80 route.
But I don't think that I would do it again.
And that is the crux of the matter.
The bus is the only means of transportation for the poorest of the poor.
For people with mental illness, for people just out of prison,
For migrant workers, for people who cannot drive for whatever reason.
But buses lose money.
The driver and station jobs are low-paying and brutal.
And routes continue to disappear - like capillaries shutting down.
Within a decade - intercity bus service will likely be a thing of the past.
Federal and state subsidies might keep some routes going for a few extra years,
but not much longer.
How will the people on today's bus travel then?
Does it matter?
Riding the dog.