Receipts: New Orleans Bus Trip, 2006

Series of receipts found in my copy of Lies My Teacher Told Me, from a Greyhound Bus Trip to and From New Orleans in 2006:

Greyhound Food Service
Louisville, KY
726 Muhammed Ali Blvd.
Louisville, KY 40203
502-5853909

Order 1043

Host: Donald 02/23/2006
Order 1043 9:49 AM

Grilled Cheese 1.49

Sub Total 1.49
Tax 0.09

DINE IN Total 1.58

Cash 2.00

Change 0.42

Thank you for your patronage
Hope to see you again soon

--Check Closed--


I remember that grilled cheese, and that man. He was a jovial, roly poly smiling black man, and that grilled cheese was heaven, made on thick white bread, a piece of cheap-assed american cheese on each slice, grilled separately and lovingly on the flat iron grill. That man, Donald, wanted to please me, and please me he did.

I remember I went for a little walk afterward, admiring the very old houses along the Boulevard, occupied by some very poor people. The midwest just isn't old enough for me, and the east coast is too stuffy. The south is where I belong; it's warm, the food is amazing, the architecture solid and beautiful, even when it's near to ruin.


Greyhound Food Service
Nashville, TN
200 8th Avenue South
Nashville, TN 37204
(615) 259-2740

Order 1196

Host: Fred 02/23/2006
Order 1196 2:43 PM

Chicken Dinner Special 4.99
1/4 Chicken Dark
Roll

Sub Total 4.99
Tax 0.46

DINE IN Total 5.45

Cash 20.00

Change 14.55

Thank you for your patronage
Hope to see you again soon

--Check Closed--


I remember this meal too. Not so much the man, though I do recall being asked if I wanted light or dark meat and being very excited that I got the choice. It was a right delicious meal.

Now I am craving fried chicken, and hard. So good with a bit of creamy coleslaw, a nice white dinner roll and cold butter, and maybe some corn (on the cob or off, ain't no matter). Mmm.


Greyhound Food Service
Tulsa, OK
317 Detroit Ave.
Tulsa, OK 74120
(918) 587-5434

Order 1025

Host: Gandhy 02/27/2006
Order 1025 12:33 PM

Turk/Chz Sandw 2.79

Sub Total 2.79
Tax 0.24

DINE IN Total 3.03

Cash 5.00

Change 1.97

Thank you for your patronage
Hope to see you again soon

--Check Closed--


It's only in the deep(er) south that Greyhound stations have cafeterias. Most places, and I've traveled through almost all of the upper states and most of the southeastern states, just have vending machines. I really appreciate these cafeterias, as the food is hot, it's simple comfort food, and it's better for you than what you'd have to settle for at the McDonald's or gas station you're invariably given twenty minutes to find something to eat at. Another of hundreds of reasons I love the south and love the Greyhound bus ride through there.

I do remember this sandwich, too. At this particular Greyhound station, the cafeteria was just a basic sandwich line, with pre-prepared fare that you could add lettuce, tomato, pickles, mayo and mustard to. I took all but the mayo and it was a satisfying little meal. What was to follow, however, was rather ugly.

I finished my sandwich after enjoying the sunny, cool Tulsa day sitting on the stoop of the bus station. It was late February, so this was a mid-60s kind of cool, not a mid-40s if we're lucky kind of cool up here in Minneapolis. It was just a really beautiful, enjoy a sandwich outside on the stoop sort of day.

I got on the bus. Chose a window seat, and snuggled into my usual hoodie up, blanket on my lap, happy as a clam lookin' out the window position. Generally, the busses aren't too full, and because I appear surly, I wind up having the two seats to myself. Today was different. Today, the bus was gettin' all full up. Today, a giant she-beast was about to sit next to me.

She had breath like Grendel's mom, which she draped over me repeatedly in a moist stench cloud as she asked, "Are you a boy or a girl?" and other such brilliant questions. Her children were also on the bus, one far to the front (the girl) and the other far to the back (the boy) as there was nowhere else for them to sit by the time they got on. So of course, being the gnarly she-beast that she was, was determined to yell at these children every three minutes (inbetween harassing me about my gender) about some completely useless thing, and, well, I suppose this is where I should mention the little girl's name, or what I approximate her name to be in Normal Human English, vs. She-Beast English.

Thick-thee. Thick-thi. I have no idea how one spells such a thing. Or what the fuck such a thing means. Or why the hell someone would name a child something so gross. I just know that this woman's breath, and that child's name are forever imprinted upon me.

Thankfully, it was about and hour and a half only with them, and then they were gone.


Greyhound Food Service
Kansas City, MO
1101 Troost
Kansas City, Mo 64106

Order 1160

Host: Cierra 02/27/2006
Order 1160 5:48 PM

Maru Chix Soup 1.39

Sub Total 1.39
Tax 0.13

DINE IN Total 1.52

Change 3.48

Thank you for your patronage
Hope to see you again soon

--Check Closed--


Greyhound Food Service
Kansas City, MO
1101 Troost
Kansas City, Mo 64106

Order 1209

Host: Cierra 02/27/2006
Order 1209 6:49 PM

Pie-Apple 1.99

Sub Total 1.99
Tax 0.19

DINE IN Total 2.18

Cash 3.00

Change 0.82

Thank you for your patronage
Hope to see you again soon

--Check Closed--


It's strange to me how I really remember all of these meals. That soup was a cup of soup that you added hot water to, as this cafeteria was more vending machine fare than anything and that seemed my healthiest (and cheapest option).

There was a girl at that stop who chatted with me a little about a man that seemed suspicious to her because he was a hispanic man with middle eastern features (I assumed she simply thought him to be middle eastern because of her reaction). The girl was young, seventeen, and black. In the south, that just has too many layers of wrong. She continued to chat with me, and soon I found out she'd thought we were the same age.

So what did she know, anyway.

I miss the bus.

Virgin Boy Blood, Anecdote #1

I was about to retire to sleep when the vagaries of my life closed in on my little brain and I became so incensed I had to get up and take care of some business. Namely, move a bookshelf. Why I felt so incensed that I had to move this bookshelf is unimportant, as the new location of the bookshelf is actually much better than the first. It is now sitting next to my desk, with my lamp upon it instead of my desk, thus freeing valuable desk space. There is also, upon this bookshelf, a photo of my boyfriend, Andy.

Yes, Andy is once again my boyfriend; it happened officially on December 14th. Things are as they should be, yays all around.

But, this is not what I wanted to come and write about. No, I came to write about a scrap of cloth lying upon my desk that I've had upon my desk for months, intending to write a blog about it. I want to write about it because, you see, it is SOAKED WITH VIRGIN BOY BLOOD.

There was no rite performed to extract this blood. Okay, that's not true. Making out is a rite of some kind, yes? Yes.

The skinny is this: When I was 21, I dated a 17 year old. A soft skinned, dark eyed, mullet sporting (a good five years before the ironic mullet at least) beautiful 17 year old who drank too much Mountain Dew and played too many video games, but who got dewy eyed when I talked about things that moved me, would leave flowers taped to my apartment door, who was a virgin in nearly every way. I gave him his first blow job at the lake cabin of a mutual friend, as we laid drunkenly on the bottom bunk on a set of bunk beds. Little did we know, our friends downstairs were about to mount a paparazzi onslaught and would soon bust in with a video camera and bright-as-shit light. I still haven't seen that tape...

A week or two later, this boy and I were making out in my bedroom. I'd just moved into my first apartment and didn't yet have a bed, so our fondling went down on a weird fold out chair device (it was basically like sleeping on couch cushions) on the floor. The lighting was dim to non-existent, and suddenly, everything became very wet.

I couldn't believe he'd have come so quickly, he said he hadn't, so I got up and turned on the light.

There was blood. Blood everywhere. All over what I was wearing, all over my boyfriend, all over the quilt my grandmother had made from my father's baby clothes (irony?).

Turns out the lad had had an improperly done circumcision and the skin was too tight, and when there is vigorous making out, rubbing, or anything of that sort, the skin rips a little and bleeds like a mother fucker cuz the dick be full o' bloods. He said, "This happens sometimes. It doesn't hurt." That's the sort of thing a gal might wanna hear about before the making out occurs, kiddo.

Aaaaah!

Anyhoo. We had sex a week or so later. It was his first time. For me it was meh. Except for the virginity eatin'.

A couple years later, we had sex again, at the very same cabin this all started. He'd learned a few things in that time. It was no longer meh.

He stopped talking to me shortly after. But that's a different anecdote altogether.