Monday morning ride on the Grey Dog from Eugene to Portland

Travel can take multiple forms and incorporate a wide variety of means.

I like to say that your means of transportation will be one of the biggest determinators of what kind of travel experience you will have along with your budget and time.

Yesterday I visited some friends in Eugene and had to find my own way back to Portland. Hitch hiking has always been a pastime I have enjoyed and that was an option. I decided however that the Grey Dog might be a safer way to go and that I could deal with it for a 2 hour ride.

The Greyhound station in Eugene is downtown next to a parking garage in a rather small single storey building. Passing through the metal doors I bought a ticket for the 10.20 am bus. The man behind the desk was polite and sold me my $16 ticket telling me I had plenty of time and got comfortable. America is made for the car and with minimal public transport and massive highways people who do not own a car don’t have many options. Greyhound has a reputation for catering to the lower echelons of society and there is a grain of truth in that.

Outside the station 3 other passengers, 2 women and a man lingered smoking their first cigarette of the day, waiting for the connection to Portland. Inside the dull yellow floor and florescent lighting gave the feel of a correctional facility, complete with signs ordering the inmate not to do this or that and a man in a peaked hat.

There is a distinct difference in the way airlines view and relate to their customers and how Greyhound does. I remember one Christmas taking a bus from Southern California to Eugene and buses were cancelled. Finally getting on the road on a packed bus the driver announces, “Now listen up, I’m giving up my Christmas to get you folks where you want to go. If I catch anyone drinking or smoking I’m gonna throw your ass off, so get comfortable and enjoy the ride.”

The station filled up with a combination of older couples, college age people and other people who had chosen Greyhound over the plane. One older lady was travelling with her husband and was telling everyone they were going to Oklahoma. “We said wouldn’t it be nice to take a bus ride,” she said. “Our trip will take 2 days, 12 hours and 55 minutes.” I hope she has a nice ride considering the entire trip will on the bus or in a station.

Waiting for my bus I started to feel like an inmate in a local jail. Rows of vending machines sold candy bars and bottled drinks. Telephones lined one wall for those who had enough quarters handy or a pre-paid phone card, toilets nearby were for customers only.

As the buses arrived and parked in the garage a older driver in grey uniform and peaked hat ran in and out shouting schedules. The PA system tried to keep up with the buses and one lady asked “Is this bus going to Portland?” “LISTEN TO THE DAMN LOUDSPEAKER.” said the driver.

Boarding the bus to Portland there were about 10 seats available. The passengers already on the bus were either asleep or in a state of semi-coma. I tried to sit next to a young girl who was fast asleep and her mother yelled, “Don’t you wake her up now.” Other new comers who looked like they were heading for an audition as the ‘before shot’ in a weight control campaign wobbled up and down the aisle searching for an empty seat.

The ride itself was okay and two passengers seated at the front of the bus enjoyed a conversation out loud about ‘learning’. “I’ve taught my daughter how to use the VCR” said one lady. “It’s important that she knows how.” “My grandkids love Playstation,” said the man, “and I learn things when they point out the different ways the action characters use their swords.” Arriving in Portland the driver gave a 5 minutes speech in ‘slow mode’ instructing passengers on bus proceedures…”put your chair in the cooorrect position….do noooot leave the bus without checking you have all your haaaand luggage…”

Making a phone call at the station in Portland a young man from my bus slammed the receiver down next to me and shouted, “screw that, I ain’t paying $3 for a fucking phone call.”

The overall taste Greyhound leaves is a slow rather impersonal way to go that many people use as their only alternative.