Since I moved away from home in August 2005, I’ve taken the Greyhound home more times than I care to count. Sadly, I’ve been stuck sitting with, or near, a weirdo more times than I care to count. Even more sadly, I can name three bus trips home that were good trips where I didn’t have to deal with some creeper who wanted to turn my skull into a decorative vase.
One of those good trips was after I spent the night with Jack Daniels and I was so hung over the next morning that I slept through my entire bus trip and no one bothered me.
I also would have slept through my first Greyhound trip, but thanks to my very first Greyhound creeper, I didn’t.
I went home on the evening bus. I was taking the Greyhound home so that I could watch my sister’s first volleyball tournament of the season. She’d called me while she was sitting in the hammock that used to be in my bedroom that week. She was crying which made me cry. Then I made immediate plans to go home for the weekend. This was the first time that I had ever traveled anywhere by myself and this incident is the reason behind why I’m convinced everyone that gets on a Greyhound bus is a potential murderer and foot fetishist.
It was dark, it was late, and I was tired. I’m also tall so there is almost no way for me to comfortably lay on two Greyhound bus seats. So after some tossing and wiggling, I finally got comfortable enough to sleep. I was leaning up against the window with my jacket tucked in behind me and I was wearing flip flops so those were on the floor while my feet hung off the side of the seat.
I was just starting to drift off to sleep when I felt something slide up my foot. I was sure I was imagining it, so I shift around a bit to make sure nothing was touching my feet and then I tried to fall asleep. Then I felt it again. It felt like fingers were sliding up the soles of my feet. Something was going to pull my feet off! So I kicked my feet and opened my eyes to see if anything or anyone was around that could be touching my feet. I didn’t see anything so I figured someone had walked past me on their way to the bathroom. After I had snuggled back down and was about to drift off, I felt something on my feet again. This time it brushed across my toes and then I felt someone kneading the balls of my feet.
I flipped my shit out. I absolutely lost it. As quickly as I could I snatched my feet away from the hands that were touching them. I tucked my legs under my body and sat up on my knees to look over my seat at this creepy old man who was sitting behind me. I remember him in line to get on the bus behind me. His teeth were yellow and brown. On the bus I could see that his black jacket was old and worn out and his black dress probably used to be a good pair of dress pants. He wore a tie. He didn’t look threatening, but at the same time I couldn’t help but think, “Yeah, well it’s not like murderers go around with signs around their neck saying they have vacancies in the holes they have in their basements.”
As I glared over the seat at him, he looked up at me. He seemed surprised that I was awake. He looked like he was trying to be helpful when he said “I’m sorry that I woke you. You have such beautiful feet. Can I give you a foot massage?”
I could barely say “no” as I got up, put my shoes on and moved seats.
The unfortunate thing about this whole event? I’ve had creepier things happen to me on the Greyhound. What’s your worst Greyhound story?