Only on the Chinatown bus

The other day, I took the Chinatown bus to Boston for the first time. Mind you, this is after all the great things my parents told me about it.

"I heard they murder passengers."
"Isn't it all gang controlled?"
"Last year a bus driver was murdered by a rival bus company."
"I don't think it's safe, they rob passengers."

I took it anyway. You can't beat $10 one-way! But, it's in Chinatown, but on the very, very eastern tip of it. So it's not near any subway lines. I got there at 9:15 AM for the 10:00 AM bus. There were already 50 people in line ahead of me. The one that I took was Fung Wah bus lines, the oldest, and allegedly the most reliable and comfortable.

Friendly Fung Wah ticket agents were mute while I presented my proof of purchase to get the official stamp, and more friendly Fung Wah staff yelled things at me in Cantonese (I only understand Mandarin), which I took to mean "Gey your ass in line and stay there!" I was optimistic for my first Chinatown bus trip, but everyone in line ahead of me were having spirited conversations about how bad the buses are.

We didn't board the bus until 10:30 AM, due to lane closings on the Brooklyn bridge. Upon boarding, and taking our seats, the bus driver went up and down the aisle yelling more things in Cantonese. The only bit I understood was the few words of English, "Sit down! Bus is late! Bus is late!"

We finally got underway. Suddenly, all the Chinese people on the bus got out grocery bags full of Asian snacks, like Asian-style beef jerky and squid strings. Only on the Chinatown bus.

The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful, except for the man next to me across the aisle. He insisted on talking on his cell phone in Cantonese at the top of his lungs. There was this poor, unsuspecting white man sitting next to him, who looked like his head was going to burst.

(One high point - we stopped at a Roy Rogers in Connecticut! I thought all Roy Rogers had disappeared off the face of the earth, except for the one in Penn Station... so I was pleasantly surprised. It was like finding a lost city of gold! Apparently, Roy Rogers still lives in Connecticut. I'm considering moving there...)

I think the trip was concluded appropriately. The bus driver said his own special goodbye when we pulled into our destination, "Get off! Get off!"