Upholstered Seats

I’m writing from on board a bus.  Mind you, I’m writing in notepad and plan to transfer it to the site but nevertheless, writing aboard a bus is amusing.  I am between Moncton and Saint John at the moment.  The bus from Halifax to Moncton did not have a usable electrical outlet and my antiquated laptop battery can not be trusted.

I am glad for my own foresight.  I prepared everything for this trip last night, right down to the clothes I would wear today.  This is not usual behaviour.  I set my alarm for 5:30 to catch my 7:15 bus out of the city.  I awoke on the twentieth instance of my alarm’s noise.  6:45.  I have never moved so quickly, so early, in all my life.

I am glad no one that I know is taking this trip. My naturally curly hair is worthy of Weird Al at the moment.

I enjoyed a strange nap between Truro and Amherst.  I was scrunched up on the seat, my head likely hanging down and obstructing the aisle the entire time.  I drifted in and out of waking thought and dream.  I remember coming to and thinking that I had shaved my legs but forgotten my ankles, which were now covered in band of six inch long coarse hairs.

What I dislike about traveling is vehicles.  I have a mild form of claustrophobia and find myself uncomfortable being cramped up with no means of escape.  I listen to music incessantly to divert my attention.  Listening to my favourite songs in headphones is one of the best things though, so perhaps the payoff is worth the ordeal.  I enjoy the intimacy of the music and the ability to discern things that I might otherwise miss in casual speaker listening.

I am stopping over in Saint John to wait for a friend to get off work before we hit the road for Montreal.  I hope that I will be able to find the internet and post this and perhaps update more. The bus also allows me to think.  And think and think.  So I have much to say for no better reason than if I don’t, I may forget it or change my mind in an hour or so anyway.

My other weakness, motion sickness, is kicking in and so I will stop writing.  I think I’ll watch some old French film.  That will go nicely with this grey day.