Forewarning: The following is an actual letter actually written by me, If you are not comfortable hearing Helena-your-fearless-leader turn into a fucking moron, please don't read this... I'm telling you, every time I step onto a Greyhound, I turn into a complete idiot...
Dearest Peter,
Well, here I am on an adventure. Woo-hoo! My bus hasn't actually left the station, but I'm having an adventure anyway!
Don't ASK me what has possessed me to think that going to New York by myself is a good idea, because I just know I'm going to get horribly lost and and end up in the scariest, shadiest, most-full-of-gunfire ghetto on the entire Atlantic coast... As a matter of fact, this is maybe the dumbest thing I've ever done in my life... And oh, sweet lord, the bus is moving...
An ADVENTURE!
Well, things are starting out well... There are some French people with a cute baby on the bus. I didn't know there were French people in Binghamton! There's also a guy behind me who has a pillow roughly the shape and texture of a fake tit made out of nylon and rice. These people ought to make interesting riding companions! French people RULE!
Okay, okay, we're on the highway now and it's time for some heavy-duty philosophy... For example, what IS in those bathrooms in the backs of busses? I have spent approximately 1/997 of my life on out-of-town busses -- more if you count school field trips -- and have never gone to the bathroom on one. But what happens if you're in that bathroom and the bus hits a bump and all your pee flies up and splashes all over your unmentionables? Or what if your turd breaks off in the middle? I fear things like that only slightly more than getting lost in Port Authority. As a matter of fact, on a list of my wors fears, getting splashed with pee on a bus ranks about 4th, thus:
CAREBEAR'S WORST FEARS:
1.) Vomit -- tied with -- nuclear war.
2.) Death, and/or severe pain.
3.) Getting raped/molested.
4.) Getting splashed with pee because of a pothole.
5.) Getting lost in Port Authority.
Hopefully, I will experience only one of the above traumas on this fine rainy day. Obviously I'm going to get lost in Port Authority, so I'm just hoping I don't encounter any of my other worst fears.
Things I know about New York City since the last time I was there:
*It has five boroughs. A borough is another word for a little baby town inside a big town. Two of those boroughs are Manhattan and Queens. New Jersey is not a borough. Boroughs are not to be confused with burros, which are those shitty-looking horse-things that walk around in the Grand Canyon all the time.
* [Cut due to inappropriate-for-the-web content...]
* There are more taxicabs in New York than there are people in Canada.
* Don't swim in the East River. I'm not sure of the reasoning behind that, but my mom told me not to. She also told me sometjhing about not buying Rolexes, but I didn't really get that part...
I think we must be in Pennsylvania. From my experience, there are a lot of trees and stupid people in Pennsylvania. Nobody knows which outnumbers which. I know from firsthand experience that many stupid people live in PA and go to the Oakdale Mall twice a year to stock up on Milli Vanilli CD's in my store. Blame it on the rain, yeah, yeah... Oh yes, and mustn't forget Willie Nelson...
A guy up front just got up to go to the bathroom. Just as he got there, the bus began its passage through a construction area and we hit the rumble strip. I bet you anything that SOMETHING in that bathroom got splashed with pee. And Peter, for heaven's sake, what happens to the flushed pee??? Does it just dribble out onto the highway? That's very unsanitary of course, and can lead to giardia, cholera, and typhoid fever. Wait, scratch that... Giardia's only if you eat beaver poop without cooking it first. I learned that in Girl Scouts.
Be back later -- I'm going to stare out the window and think. Later, I'll report back on my findings.
Back. It's 11.15 and we're still about 40-50 minutes outside of NYC. Still, I have managed to avoid the bus bathroom. As a matter of fact, my vision is sort of blurry and yellowish due to backup of toxic materials... But, with Port Authority less than an hour away, I'm going to try keeping my toxic backup to myself. If I die trying, I'd like to be creamted and you may sprinkle my ashes in Greensfield Park.
I'm picking up New Jersey radio stations. Come to think of it, the trees look a little sickly. They look as though they'd like to speak -- and if they could speak, they'd say, "help me, I live in New Jersey."
Gahd this road is bumpy. Ooohhh, how I have to pee. I've been trying to think for awhile, but it's been touch due to the urine factor. The only epiphany I managed was "Gee, trucks are really, really big."
L'homme a la gauche de moi lit ma lettre... Je pense qu'il est de Mexique ou quelque chose, et j'espere qu'il arręterait me regarde si j'ecrit en francais...
(The guy on the left of me is reading my letter... I thinks he's, like, Mexican or something, and I hope he'll stop fucking staring at me if I write in French -- what do you know, it worked!)
So, back to the thing about the trucks... Yeah. They're really, really big. Every time I see one go by, I think, "Gee, that truck is really big." Then I think about the little kitty in Pet Sematary. Didn't that little kitty get run over by a big truck? Or was it the kid that got run over by the big truck? Whatever. One time, I read Pet Sematary and SOMEBODY got hit by a big truck.
Gahdamn, I give up the fight. I HAVE TO GO! If I get splashed, so be it...
I didn't give in! Oh no! Helena beat the urge to urinate! Of course, I had to have a scary-looking cop help me find the bathroom in Port Authority, but he was the only -- and I do mean ONLY -- person around who spoke any English.
Presently, I am sitting on a bench surrounded by pigeons. That's about as specific as I can get, geographically speaking. Wait, let's see... I'm within sight distance of a fountain; a building with statues of naked people on it; a large building with a news-ticker on the side of it; and a hot dog stand, a baked potato stand, and a fruit stand. Yeah. I'm sure you've got a pretty good idea of where I am now, don't you? Oh, and there's Radio City. Gahd, I'm so lost...
I spent half the morning trying to find 5th Avenue. Then I spent the other half on the morning ON 5th Avenue. Since I was there, I bought Susan a lunchbox that says "SAKS FIFTH AVE" on it. I also engaged in a discussion about gardenias with a French homosexual perfume-guy. I like Saks. Susan and I read fashion magazines instead of working about 60% of the time, so I thought I'd get her something kind of snooty for her birthday next week.
Then I went to St. Patrick's Cathedral and wandered around looking at half-naked satues of the Lord for awhile. (MAN is he buff!) That brought me to here, which is a pigeon-engulfed bench. It's bitchin'-cold out -- I think I'll find someplace INDOORS to sit.
Gahd, I am so tired... Big cities always exhaust me. Except Denver. Denver doesn't count. Denver's so boring you might WISH you were tired enough to fall asleep, but you know what I'm saying...
Today I:
*Got squirted with perfume in Saks. It smelled really good at first, kind of fresh and soapy like Polo Sport or something, but now it smells like a subway... a subway and the paste made out of a ground-up seminal vessicle... I knew I should have washed my hands after I jerked off all those homeless guys...
*Looked into a subway hole and contemplated getting on it alone. I didn't do it, but I thought it, and it's the thought that counts, right?
*Saw a baked potato stand get hitched to a truck and go rolling down the street...
*Was NOT disgustingly amazed by the stupid Cup O'Noodles sign in Times Square -- you know, the one that steams? I'm NOT a stupid tourist, dammit!!!
*DID NOT GET LOST IN PORT AUTHORITY!!! (Okay, I did, but not for too long!)
I did a little shopping and got back on my bus. Hm. So, that was my day. Mostly, I stayed within ten blocks of where I'd arrived, but I'm proud of myself anyway; I didn't get lost, freak out, or act like a tourist ALL day! For my first time alone in NYC, I think that's an accomplishment. And now I'm exhausted.
I think we're in New Jersey. You can always tell because things start to get grosser when you're in New Jersey. For example:
Well, schnookums, I'm starting to fall asleep, so I guess I'll sign off here... Goodnight...
Love,
~Carebear*
(the little best friend that could...)