Two black women, both in their 50ies, continue talking to me. One of them, sitting next to me, tries to appease me: “Take your time. Reläääääx. Don’t listen to her.” The other woman, standing in the corridor, continues barking: “Määäääään, you need a ticket. Leave this bus if you don’t have a ticket. Follow me. You have to leave – this - bus. Määääään, you – need – a – ticket!” I don’t find the ticket. I start my laptop to show her the digital version – but the laptop doesn’t boot. Anyway, “your laptop doesn’t help you. I need you ticket printed. Määäään, I – need – a – printed – ticket!”
What happened? Unexpectedly, we had to change buses in Buffalo to continue our trip to New York. Some hours earlier, in Toronto, I was the last person to get a free seat in the bus. Greyhound sold more tickets than they have seats – so a bunch of people had to wait at Toronto’s bus station for another bus to New York. I gave the first page of my ticket – why ever a ticket from Toronto to New York needs three pages – to the bus Driver, put the other two pages somewhere in my bag – I am now in the bus, why should I ever need it again? – and found literally the last place – next to this arrogant Arabic woman, next to the noise of the motor, next to the smell of the toilet. 11 hours on this seat? At least I made it into the bus.
A last view at the skyscrapers of Toronto’s financial district, which I’ve seen so often in the last months. A last view at Union Station. Then the ramp onto the Gardiner Expressway. That was it. Goodbye, Toronto.
Hamilton. Niagara Falls. Border Control. After four month in friendly, democratic Canada (and one day in Detroit) I had to cross the border to the United States again. It took more than two hours. More than two hours in a shabby room where you’re not allowed to eat, not allowed to drink, not allowed to take pictures, not allowed to use cellphones. Welcome to the country of liberty and freedom. As I’m neither black nor a Muslim and no-one asked me to take my T-Shirt off (below was a sweater that shows some heavily armed natives, saying “Homeland Security. Fighting terrorism since 1492”), I was asked only some harmless questions, got my baggage screened and was finally allowed to re-enter the bus. I really, really like the United States, but the border controls are – well, different from Canada.
As it took so long to cross the border, we arrived in Buffalo with an delay of one hour. Greyhound therefore decided that we all have to change buses now (perhaps because our driver was not allowed to continue driving all the way to New York, but no one told us anything). The other bus was less comfortable, but at least I had a friendlier neighbor, who told me to relax and take my time when I didn’t find my ticket. Finally I found it. I put it into my wallet. So I was allowed to stay in the bus and to spend a night with this crazy bus driver who made it to drive so fast that we arrived in New York City according to time-table, at 6.10 AM this morning.
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