Life on the Hound. Vol 1

As I type, I am sitting in the Greyhound terminal in Nashville waiting to reboard the bus from Memphis to Knoxville. See, I live in Memphis and I attend the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. Back in December, when I applied to the Ph.D. program in Knoxville, it was looking as though my wife would get a job in Nashville sooner than later, making the commute to Knoxville a mere 2.5 hours Monday mornings and I'd return Wednesday evenings.

That was nine months ago. Now it's approaching midnight Sunday evening in a fairly busy Greyhound station. Soon I will arrive in Knoxville with 3.5 hours before my 9:00 a.m. class. But at least I'm "living the dream," right?

I was just about to write that the Greyhound station is pretty uneventful, and for the most part it is. Yes, it is a lower-income clientele than that of air travel, but bus travelers are just trying to get from A to B--just like me.

But before I could type that, very peculiar thing happened. A one-armed man just decided to borrow one outlet of the extension cord I'm using to power my laptop (on which I'm composing this post). The arm he does have, he chose to cover in a seemingly unconnected array of tattoos. He's looking down, so I try to get a look at the artwork, but it's not very clear what any of it means. I have just over an hour before I reboard, and I hope he disconnects from my extension cord before I have to engage in any form of communication with him.

This is my second Knoxville-by-bus adventure. The first trip went rather similarly to this point. Tons of fairly interesting, yet harmless, people trying to get places. Then, as I was standing in line to board the bus to Nashville, a guy took the opportunity of a captive audience to hit on the girl behind me. I couldn't see either of them, but the exchange was priceless. She was apparently stranded by her boyfriend and trying to get back home. She recently learned that her boyfriend had 57 partners, and contracted STDs which he passed to her while impregnating her.

I would imagine any self-respecting man in that position would offer some form of condolence while finding ANY means of escape, but not this pillar of judgement. He proceeds to tell her about his vacation home in Australia and that his current destination is somewhere in Pennsylvania where he is going to make exactly $56.72/hour.

She's not impressed and she makes $50+ hourly as well, in from of the camera! (That's not the way she described it, but you get the idea.)

And if you're wondering, he did get her phone number as they went their separate ways via the Hound.

It's pretty amazing what people are willing to tell others.