Grecian Bus Ride

You ever tried stuffing yourself into an overly crowded elevator? No, of course not. The idea of physical contact with strangers is not always a comfortable notion. How about an overly crowded bus? Forcibly stuff yourself in? No, again, it’s just not proper protocol. Now then, how about actually getting your shoulders down low and shoving with all your force against another passenger so that you might board a bus? Here’s my tale.


June 1994

Athens, Greece. I was on vacation with four chums heading for the island of Ios. This necessitated taking a bus ride from the airport to the ferry which would deliver our travel weary carcasses to our Mediterranean isle. We’ll call these chums McGettigans the Elder and Younger, Cousin John, and Taylor.

The bus pulled up. To our dismay the thing was already stuffed tight. Standing room only, in fact. By U.S. standards, you’d wait it out and take the next bus. But not here. Bus stopped, patrons started courteously trying to make room for more bodies. There were five of us plus our duffel bags and many other folks after us hoping to get aboard. Commence loading.

The standing room only slowly made room for entry. The effort to compress the current bus patrons was not significant, or at least not significant enough. My four chums squeezed in, just barely. Now I had no choice but to render myself somehow aboard with my luggage. If I missed the bus, I’d miss the ferry, and be lost in the wake like so much chum.

McGettigan the Younger was immediately in front of me and his back was directly where the door would be closing, if it could close. But the heck if I was about to be separated in a foreign land where I boasted no communication skills, I speak no Grecian.

I started shoving to get myself aboard. Really shoving! With my feet still on the street I got my shoulders down low and started shoving my friend trying to get in. He didn’t mind the shoving, he understood the gravity of the circumstances, he was actually amused that the situation had deteriorated to this. I managed to get my bag in, then worked on getting myself aboard. I’m pushing with everything I’ve got, but making no progress and advise my pals of my conundrum. Becoming aware for the first time of my problem they now begin to explain in incompatible English and politely shove against strangers in an attempt to forcibly annex enough space so that I may actually stand inside the bus.

The bus couldn’t leave until the door closed and it was closing on my shoulder with my arm, shoulder, and a leg still outside. So close, was I. The beginning stage of panic began to set in as a stranger started pulling my arm and barking at me in a foreign tongue trying to pull me off of the bus. If I got pulled out I would be separated from my duffel bag and passport. The four Americans recognizing my peril now worked in unison to beat back the Grecians on board. With one final surge I shook my arm free, slipped inside the bus, door closed, and the driver hit the gas pedal.

I was sweating profusely, my heart racing, and it was hot as all get-out in that crummy bus. Yet, I couldn’t have been happier to be onboard.

We reached the ferry. A round of beers arrived denoting that vacation was now underway.
-klem