My fast morning story –
In the 1990s my husband and I would often take an overnight trip to Bisbee, AZ – and in lieu of driving one of near-to-dying-cars, we opted for a ride on Greyhound. This also allowed for a bit of drinking without the worry of driving. The only drawback of a bus ride from Tucson to Bisbee is the number of stops that have to be made along the way. Normally, I’d be fine with it… but not on this particular bus ride.
We boarding the bus in Bisbee – possibly a little tipsy and partially hung over from the previous day. So everything is a mixture of hilarious and/or slightly nauseating (for me anyway). Scott and I sit in our seats waiting for the fun to begin, and know it’s July and extremely HOT out. We drive to Sierra Vista/Ft. Hauchuca and pick up a ton of people. We have to wait for about 15 minutes before the bus is scheduled to start moving again.
Then it happens…
A stench comes wafting out the bathroom…viscous and raw. It fills the entire bus. And I feel really bad for whoever is in there because you know they are experiencing some horrible intestinal distress. And I think to myself, I’d like to be able to just slink out and die peacefully if that was me in the bus bathroom. We are all trying to not gag (and some of us trying to not laugh… maybe me…maybe my husband…maybe because we’re a little drunk and poop is funny). The smell actually gets worse rather than dissipates and the bus driver has opened the front doors – he looks decidedly pissed. He’s got a Lysol can in his hand – and I figure he’s going to make a trip to the bathroom and spray. But no – when the poor guy (a little old Asian man) steps out of the bathroom, the bus driver (cruelly) calls him up to the front. The guy looks horrified and has blanched to a waxy white. He slowly walks up, all passengers looking on in slight anticipation for what might possibly be happening to this guy… the bus driver hands him the can and makes him go spray the bathroom. I’m pretty sure, if I was that guy – I’d have just broken down and died. That walk back down the aisle was probably the longest walk of this guy’s entire life. We all looked away, feeling sad for him. Well, some of us (us being Scott & I) might have been trying to suppress insane giggles – you know the ones that are totally inappropriate so they grow uncontrollable? Yes, those kinds of giggles.
The bus driver closes the doors and starts the bus – thank god for the A/C – I have my mouth and nose pressed right up to the air vent by the window…and all of a sudden I breathe in a mouthful of freakin’ LYSOL. The bus driver had another can that he SPRAYED in the air vents. I almost added to the stench by vomiting right there…but I didn’t – now the entire bus smells like Lysol and sewage – which I think was MUCH, MUCH, MUCH worse.
We start on our way – with another stop in St. David – then to home. The entire trip was horribly stenchy. There’s no other word for it. I couldn’t wait to get off that bus – the smell of downtown bus station in July in Tucson was a 100% improvement. THAT’S HOW BAD IT SMELLED. And for me to say that, it’s pretty bad – I can withstand some pretty stenchy stuff – but not that.
Never that, never again.
And now for some Violent Femmes