The bus ride to London was, well, interesting to say the least. My nine hour, over night journey was kick started when I found myself boarding the wrong bus. Easily fixed. Once I found the bus I was supposed to be on, I was greeted by a socially challenged gentleman who would, for the rest of the trip, read his book with the over head light on. Sleeping in darkness was overrated, anyways. So after getting settled into my little box of a seat, we were off.
It wasn't until I had fallen into a deep sleep when the door's alarm started blarring. Imagine my state at the time; eyes closed, mouth open, drool pooling on my headrest, sitting upright because the recliner was broken, and then suddenly I'm jarred awake by this obnoxious alarm. Peachy. The buzzing continued as the spare driver made attempts to quiet it, and I happily hummed along with its ever appealing rythm.
Nine hours later, the buzzer is still ringing, my knees are still jammed into my chest, and I resemble a contortionist more than my own self. To top things off, I am using my one jacket as both a blanket for the -40 temperature and a pillow. Apparently, I was the only one who felt the discomfort settle throughout the bus upon boarding. I looked over at the gentleman beside me and see his smiling face still focused on his self help book. All I could say when I stepped off the bus into the London rain was, never again.
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