7/8- The Dirty Dog to Iowa 80

Greyhound, the dirty dog. An old familiar way for me to move around the country cheaply when I have the time to ride it out, and always a mode that I vow never to do again once I've finally reached my destination. Legs cramped, hungry, and usually in a strange haze. Its like a mobile hallway through Alice's wonderland; entering in one land, exiting in the other, and the journey in between immemorably memorable. I believe it will live on past its days as a surreal national icon to be romanticized in future novels like Skid Row and The Pony Express. Horrible but amazing.

Our ride was a mild example of the extremities Greyhound brings, starting with the legal booby trapping of the bus station in Kalamazoo. A bike cop rode up on Todd after he lit up a cigarette simply to ID him by way of threatening him with a smoking violation ticket. The interesting part being that the signs are put up in such away that makes it suspiciously ambiguous as to where the non-smoking area is by saying "in premises" and only putting the signs against the station and not through the loading area or above the bench. In fact the cop confessed, or boasted really, about having busted 164 people in the past year due to this very tactic of threatening a ticket so that they relinquish their right to privacy. Yea, do-gooders?

Anyway, so these were our last moments in Kalamazoo before getting on the bus and getting out of there. The ride itself was little to comment on. It held its cast of characters to watch, but no real stories went on. We drove through half the night and arrived at Iowa 80 around 1:45am. Having just done some bus napping we were a little foggy, but excited to be somewhere new. After some wandering about trying to spot a place to bunk down in the dark we decided we needed food and to sit comfortably to get an idea of what to do next.

Some diner food, coffee, and chatting with our waitress, Jessie, got us right in the mindset we were looking for. Jess, as Todd was calling her after two hours of on off chatting, informed us that we'd come just in time for the 30th Annual Trucker's Jamboree. Both of us kind of looked at each other and all ideas of catching a ride out of there the next day seemed to evaporate. What were the odds that we'd end up here right when they're having their Jamboree? They actually weren't all that remote, because I actually calculated them over coffee (1 in 26 being that its a two day event, probably even closer than that since we were a day early, but whatever). Downing our sixth or seventh refill we bounded back out into the night to make camp.

We woke up around noon in our little tree grove between the on ramp and I-80 to the pitter patter of rain on our bivies. I actually had woken up around 11am and just lay there not wanting to get out into the wet, but eventually we must come out. Crawling out of our bivies, we packed them up wet and hustled our way through the deluge back to The Kitchen to dry off and eat. Like wet rats crawling out of the ditches we were a bit of a spectacle as we sat ourselves in a booth for more grub.

Sally was our elderly waitress and kind of frustratingly hilarious to watch in action. Our breakfast lasted a good two hours again as we unwound, dried out, and chatted out a strategy for the day. All the while Sally would swing by maybe once an hour to refill our coffees. After long being dry on our bottomless cup she'd eventually wander over with a pot, lighting our eyes up with the hopes of more, and she'd fill Todd's mug... then half of mine. One time she completely ignored me altogether. I had to laugh, but it was a bit frustrating too.

After settling up there, we took a tour of the back lot where the Jamboree was to go down. Still being a bit wet, we did a little tour up and down the aisles of the old trucks on display. We then sat out in front of the truck stop for a little bit, looking for rides mildly by just sitting out front by our packs. Through that, we ended up chatting with a guy who was on his last hitch trying to get 200 miles up the road. After 30 years he'd finally had decided to retire. He was a cool kat to talk to, and to see that he could do it for nearly as long as I've been alive. His stories were intriguing and he seemed like a fairly honest guy just doing his thing. On a whole though he seemed to be doing something different than what we had in mind. He seemed to be hitching to get away and be on his own, where as that's what I worry about me ending up doing rather than pursuing.

It didn't take long, though, for us to feel called right back into The Kitchen for some dinner and more coffee. Dinner lasted another few hours as we admired the 2nd shift crew. This was the shift, for whatever reason, was just loaded down with really cute waitresses. We mulled over our ideas of this and that, sipping on our more regularly flowing refills of coffee, but mainly we were just winding down the day. In fact, we stayed until dark, sat outside again for a little bit, then I decided to call it a day. By 11pm I was back in my bivy and sacking out, while Todd returned yet again for more coffee.

Click here for Todd's perspective.