Its 11am Buffalo Greyhound Station, a sense of exhaustion sweeps of me but as I survey the characters around me I know I must keep my coherence or face one of my pieces of luggage disappearing. I am exhausted from previous 2 weeks accumulated without a proper sleep and only 1 hour managed the night. Despite this I am smiling, in good spirits and thinking of the staunch irony of this sense of Hotel California I had just experienced. De ja vu yet again.
It was 3 and a half years ago, a travel weary 18 year old hoisted his backpack over his shoulder and breathed a deep sigh of relief. He had also arrived at Buffalo Greyhound Station and he was also waiting for the same lovely Leah Sallach. This time the stakes were higher, it was more of a rescue mission. He had made it through an extremely challenging time, yet had had made the most and lived this out to the fullest. At this time I had reached my refuge, found in a Lutheran Camp 30 mins south of Buffalo New York. To explain further...
After getting my credit and debit cards stolen midway through my central American expedition, I had arrived in New York at 3am with only 55 dollars to my name. The same NY city that is one of the most expensive cities, the same NY city where the demand to couchsurf exceeds the supply of hosts of couchsurfing, the same NY city that was at least 8 hours and 70 dollar bus ticket to where my credit card was being sent to.
But in Guatemala after much skype and frantic dollars used up on internet planning, I had managed to find a roof 2 nights out of my arrival and Leah had potentially found a sponsor for getting me to Camp Pioneer. I had a plan but it was highly contingent on things falling my way.
I arrived at La Guardia at 1:00am, I was tired but knew what station to get to on Queens that would enable me to recharge. It was approximately 2:10am when I walked out of the subway, aware that my destination was roughly 2 blocks away but becoming disorientated by the many sub exits. Map-less, I conducted a 2 block ‘parameter search’. Not one of the most sensible things to do, but my trust in nothing going wrong in NY over Guate was in guiding me. After asking a few ‘gentlemen’ hanging out on the streets and then coming across a cop-shop I made it to Kieran and Hailey’s. Only a few bucks down with the subway and walking method. Nice... They were super people and despite having no furniture with recently moving, so cool in hosting me. With a blanket, my backpack cushion and a secure place to sleep, never had the floor felt so good.
The next day, still no news of Leah but I decided to trust and go exploring NY with David, a fellow couchsurfer who had done a fair bit of travel with the marines. He was top company walking down Wall St, before hightailing it up to central park to play some lawn bowls (I’m a premature geriatric). After such a scenic roll we decided to locate a cheap culinary offering of New York. This is not an apple, but a hot dog. We needed to find the most authentic, which of course was Greys Papaya, not papaya dog! not dogs’ n papaya! Yes that was a cheap take on Monty Python. After much exploring we found it. It turned out David was in town for Fleet week, where he could get the opportunity to hang out with his navy girlfriend Dawn, as they had docked for a few days. Dawn was with her friend Donnie, who out of such kindness and sympathy for lack of funds shouted me to an off-Broadway and meal at TGIs time square. I was so happy by everybody’s generosity, but nervous about my fading funds. Despite living so frugally I was down to 38 dollars.
Bonanza! I finally got through to Leah and we were able to pick a time for my emphatic ride out of town on my trusty steed (the Greyhound). This was to take place at 12:35am, to strategically coincide with the idea of checking out the Yankee bleachers, which were retailing for 20 and not requiring another night in NY city. Hailey and took me east village to get the best falafels in town, which lived up to their name in deliciousness and located on the adjacent stoop was a free desert to boot. These were doughnuts in a random paper bag. Of course these doughnuts were lacv ed and just moments later, I was hurriedly forced into a van, but I they were tasty and free! I later found out these apparently are intended for the homeless people. Karma would catch up to me. The next few hours consisted of the girls taking me to a place called the ‘dream room’, an exhibition next to the New Museum of Art which consisted of a purple coloured room with various lighting effects, a vibration-like sound and cushions on the floor. Before I knew it, it was Yankee time down on the Bronx.
Here I was, trying to negotiate the baseball crowd with my entire wardrobe strapped up on my back and front. Upon approaching the ticket office to acquire my seating with the ‘bleacher creatures’, I was greeted with the agonising news they were sold out. The next cheapest ticket was strapped up on my back and front. Upon approaching the ticket office to acquire my seating with the ‘bleacher creatures’, I was greeted with the agonising news they were sold out. The next cheapest ticket was 45 dollars, perhaps I could pay with my 30 remaining and write an IOU on my serviette acquired from my falafel. What to do now? Get the wardrobe that I had carried 10 odd km for the day on my bike sounded like a logical start. So no restaurants to be seen, yet there were ‘professionals’ who would take custody of personal possessions around the ground. Now to get a quote as to whether it was worth it. First guy said 35 in his thick NYorker accent, seriously I thought could write him another IOU. Next guy 45 and the following 40.
As if divine 'yankee' intervention struck, I sourced a bowling alley who agreed to hold the bags for $5 and I trusted that it would be still there when I returned. As soon as I walked 50 metres outside, I came across a ‘legitimate scalper’... “What are you selling?” I ask. She replies a ticket to an extremely good seat. I told her I only had 25 dollars, this was an appropriate amount to the lady it seemed. Questioning further I realised she just was grateful to see them used after acquiring a last minute shift at the hospital. Unbelievably I was in.
It was a sight to behold, this historic stadium that hosted one of the wealthiest sporting teams in the world packed with diehard Nayorkas. Mind you this was the last season before they relocated their games to the brand new twin stadium that was across the road. So it was such an incredible feeling to spend my last 30 dollars on such a spectacle. The thoroughfare was underway with the greats like Jeter getting a few hits as the Yankees easily discarded the Marlins. I was sitting next to a dentist surgeon, who bemoaned how he paid 125 dollars after hearing my scalping story. Couldn’t he have just been happy for me?
I stayed for the end before using up my last trip left on my 5 ride card, to travel to the infamous point authority. I eventually located the greyhound office and with reservation number in hand, I strolled in to claim my ticket. After handing me the ticket, the attendant immediately closed the office. That was when the realisation of how close I had run this gauntlet hit. Apparently the greyhound closed at 11 despite my bus leaving at 12:35. Greyhound are merciless when it comes to administering tickets and if I had of been 5 minutes later I would have been stranded.
The adaption theory pertaining to this whole situation of mixing pleasure and survival had finally kicked into exhaustion as I parked myself on a seat. The remaining task at hand; wait out the 1 and half hours remaining. I asked an old guy across from me whether this was the right terminal for Buffalo, naturally these characters always want to spin a yarn or two. So after hearing about this fellas life in the successful automotive business he had worked on all through Queens and then the trials and tribulations he encountered living in such a segregated time. Riding the emotive and nostalgic wave with him was interesting but at the same time I just wanted to sleep due to the exhaustion. Eventually it was time to board and ended up sitting next to the loveliest of people in Pamela born in Nigeria now living in London. She even ended up spotting me on a subway sandwich, which remains the best sub Ive ever had to this day (helps after not eating for 16 hrs and bought with such humbling kindness).
Buffalo was brightly shining when I arrived that day, contrary to the day I was currently experiencing 3 and a half years later. This greyhound trip just experienced was also quite different too...
