One of the things I thought about this summer while traveling in Alaska was whether I should move my base up north near my grandson and his parents. I would still travel in the winter but not as far away as New Mexico. Sometimes it feels like I am on a different planet from them. The short answer: YES! And, I need to do it now because I have already committed to babysitting during the month of September. But, it is complicated. First step: put Tango in an air-conditioned pet motel in Deming so he would be safe during the hot days, drive my car, Alice, to Spokane, visit for a few days, take the bus back to Deming to pick up Tango, the RV and the van.

At the moment, I am on that return bus, just out of Phoenix and about 8 hours from Deming. The bus is the only real option for my return trip since Deming is a long way from airports in Tucson or El Paso.

I could create a long list of complaints about bus travel. Sleeping upright! Crummy bus station food. Delays. Yesterday we even came close to running out of gas. Talk about bad planning. However, if you love to travel it doesn’t really matter how you go, as long as you are going. As for a bus, people-watching makes it tolerable, even enjoyable. Most people think a bus is full of scary people, and there are some, but most people are just average folks. An intelligent and handsome young man from Mexico, who is in the Mexican Army, was on the bus to LA after traveling on vacation. I met a retired man returning from a 6-month stay at a VA hospital in Medford, OR and a retired woman visiting family in Portland. Also in the mix: moms traveling with young children and young people heading to college towns.

On the humorous side, at the moment, a young woman is trying to stuff an oversized bag into an overhead shelf. The bag is open at the top and her stuff is flying out everywhere. A box of Tampax hit me on the head. A roll of toilet paper and a can of Barbasol rolled towards the back. After helping out everyone else for the last two days I sit still while a young man steps up. Finally, we are back on the road again, through Phoenix with a barely operating AC.

A trans woman was loud and restless, sort of entertaining everyone with stories about her sexual exploits. Shortly after I boarded the bus in Spokane, she asked if I could tell she was trans. “Yes”, I replied. She then told me it was perfectly normal to wonder about whether she had surgery down there. “I was not wondering”, I said, hoping that line of thought would end. “Anyway, I haven’t had the surgery, but don’t’ worry, it is a normal question,” she informed me.

I also traveled with two women who had just finished alcohol rehab and were heading to a halfway house in south-central Washington. One woman, maybe in her 30s, told us about hooking. What an education I received! They had both been in rehab before and were now “starting over”. Being clean and sober takes many “starting over” phases, and I hope they make it this time. “If I don’t quit, I am going to die” the hooker stated with startling calmness.

I also traveled with a compulsive talker, whom I managed to avoid sitting with. However, for two nights I could hear him ramble on to others. He talked about the FBI, aliens, numerology, and religious theories. His stories changed a bit depending on who was listening. Sometimes he said that said that he had radiation sickness and would die in a few years. Sometimes he said that he had stomach cancer.

Another guy who most people might fear – the Gangsta. He was covered with tattoos and wore baggy shorts. He often talked on the phone and sounded to me like he was always giving people instructions about something. Setting up drug deals or hits? While we were waiting for our next bus in LA, after long traffic delays and arriving many hours late, he looked at me and said, in exasperation, “I would rather be back in prison.” I smiled. I know I would rather be in a bus station.

I am not afraid of these people. In fact, I do my best to look a little off myself, so I blend in better. This time I wore my long gray hair down and didn’t comb it for two days. I wore a long, flowing, hippie skirt, t-shirt and jean jacket. I learned that nobody wants to listen to a slightly off old lady talk about their grandkids and urge incontinence. Despite my disguise, I must seem normal to people because they want to sit next to me and they turn to me for help in deciphering their ticket and reclaiming their luggage. For days I helped an older woman from Iran get up and down the bus stairs and also move her luggage around. It would have been transferred for her, but she had to watch her 3 oversized suitcases at all times. One of the few things she could say in English, “BAG”. She also could say “Turlock”, where she was headed in California. “BAG. Turlock. BAG, Turlock, for days. We finally parted in Sacramento at which point I felt some relief at being free from her.

Along the way, people traveling on the bus develop little cliques. Some people peel off and go on a different bus. Others join in during a stop. My little group included the retired folks I mentioned and an almost toothless guy who boarded with me in Spokane. He did carpentry work and was traveling from a job back to his base in the Bay area. He left us in Sacramento. Then, from Sacramento to LA we also hung out with a young black guy and the Mexican soldier. By then, we were telling the new people stories about others we encountered and laughing together about the delays and other mishaps, such as people being nearly left behind during stops.

My best bus buddy (BBB) was a retired widow from Snowflake, AZ. She decided to take the bus from Portland back to AZ because it sounded adventurous. She also didn’t want to impose on friends to travel a hundred or so miles to pick her up at the Phoenix airport, which I understand. We sat together when the bus was full and hung out together during all the stops. When we parted ways in Phoenix we exchanged contact information. Who knows! Maybe we will meet up.

Now, we are approaching Tucson at this point and all of my bus buddies have veered off in their own directions. Even though I slept a great deal, I am tired and grumpy after 48 hours on a bus. I have my bag sitting on the seat next to me, but with that being the only seat left, I may need to move the bag and share my space after the next stop. Grrr. It is too hot and this has gone on too long to be civil. I need a distraction. Sudoku? Kindle? Surfing? Those activities and the realization that I will sleep in my own bed tonight keep me going.

What is next? The dentist on Monday, in Mexico. The RV goes into the shop to have the wheel bearings repacked on Tuesday. A few days after that, I hook up to the van and head north again. I plan to stay in the Spokane area for September and October, then look for a winter hangout that is closer than New Mexico. Am I tired of traveling? Not at all. In fact, I love being on the move and no one is around to tell me to do otherwise!