Life in the fast lane

9 A.D.

We were spoilt on the bus from D.C. to NYC – it was quiet and contained about five extra people besides ourselves. New York was as overcrowded as it had been when we left, but this time all of the information kiosks were closed and we had to scout around until we found our gate – the one with the most people. Chaos and confusion reigned and no one had a clue what was going on. Should we ask a Greyhound official what was happening? I’d get a better answer out of my rucksack! After hanging around for a while we discovered from fellow passengers that the earlier buses had all been full and there was now a backlog of people wanting to go north west (Greyhound's policy of letting people board on a first-come-first-served basis is a ridiculous system). This was our first ever night trip on the buses – were we jinxed??? Eventually Greyhound brought along two extra vehicles, but we didn’t get to spread out across two seats each as we’d hoped.

Eventually we left New York, slightly late, and hopefully for the last time (at least during this trip). After a couple of hours there was a comfort break at a truck stop somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania, followed by a scheduled stop at Syracuse, but I was well off to sleep by that point. In fact, when we arrived bleary-eyed at Buffalo at 7 a.m., a girl we’d met the night before exclaimed, “You guys slept like rocks!” She wasn’t far wrong, and so far the plan to spend a night on the road had gone pretty well. When alighting from the bus, I felt a spot of rain on my head – how obscene after the sizzling horror of yesterday! We had a short wait for the connection to Toronto, with passports at the ready for a new country. After about two minutes on the bus we were marched off and herded like cattle through customs.

An aside – everyone I meet asks me what I do for a living and anyone who’s worked in my department knows how difficult it is to give an answer that’s both snappy and interesting. I could go for:

• Manage a team of administrators in a government office (the dull version).
• Provide statistical information to the medical research community (the confusing version).
• Work as a freelance stuntman who used to pilot Concorde (the complete lie).

This time I went for plain old “civil servant” when asked by the customs officer. “Oh, like me,” he replied. Nope, not even close!

We got to Niagara Falls around 9.00 a.m. – three hours before check-in. There wasn’t much happening in the bus terminal so we crossed the road to the train station and played endless games of cards over endless cups of coffee. I was disappointed to only see one train pass through the station before, in true small town style, were kicked out at 11 by the grumpy station master. “It closes at this time every day,” he said flatly when I queried whether it was a public holiday.

The Crystal Inn wasn’t far to walk and this time we’d really fallen on our feet. It’s a typical mom-and-pop motel, but we’re paying pretty much the same as we did for the D.C. Lofty and getting a private room, a double bed each, a fridge, a private bathroom (with bath!) and all the other typical amenities. Plus there’s a pool outside, but please don’t expect any pictures of me taking a dip. Yep, it’s the type of place I’ve seen in countless road movies and I love it. We even have a sink each. Stuff the next six months travelling the world, we’ll just stay here!