THURSDAY 9:31

The punctuality of Greyhounds could either be a blessing or a curse depending on which side of the pendulum you’re swinging on. The bus would make it there at 10:00 sharp, there was no questioning that, but the station, its locks were clamped at 9:30. No plead or puppy face could get me to the ticketing booth inside. I’m sure the Stetson didn’t help in convincing the attendants that I wasn’t some homeless junkie trying to run off with the cash register.

Jason was long gone so all that was left to do was sit on the curb and hope the driver would let me on with promise to pay. It all depended on how full the bus was. If my luck should falter then it would be a long walk home with a heavy pack and an unfulfilled dream.

Beside me there were two Swiss backpackers who noticed my plight. They had been to Miami and New York and were now shuffling their shoes up the west coast. One couldn’t stop talking about how materialistic America was and how she’d never raise her kids here. How everything was superior in Europe and how there was a better developed sense of community across the Atlantic. How overrated Miami was and how filth coated the streets of New York. How…, well, you get the picture.

In a way her complaints were true. Here in America we are always after the bigger and better fix and we parade our ideals as if they are the only right way of doing things. But that isn’t true of every American. How restricting to base your entire views of a country on the character of just one type of its people. Eclecticism is at the core of our values. We are a country that, despite several misrepresented taboos, are open to just about any method of self expression. It is true that recently people have taken advantage of this freedom to impose their own philosophies on others. Even though our country gives them the right to, by them doing so they are contradicting everything we stand for. America is a sanctuary in which people can be themselves no matter who or what themselves may be. When you take that away, and force people to follow your beliefs, then you are no better than a run in the mill tyrant. Be who you are but don’t deny others the right in being who they are.

The other Swiss was more soft spoken than her fiery counterpart. Actually she didn’t speak at all and just sat next to her pack, cradling her legs, smiling. Her skin was white chocolate and the blue was bursting out of her eyes. Not a bad looking girl. Pretty fucking beautiful if you ask me. We shared these poetic glances and I would have handed her my heart on the spot were it not bobbing on a sea turtle’s back near someone’s Caribbean island.

My cock, however, that was a different story. She could have that wherever she wanted: on her face, in her rump, between her clenched fist. She could speak into it with her tongue or warm it between her breasts. It was all hers and she didn’t even know it yet. She would never know. The bus had arrived.