"Home" I am vaguely obsessed with the concept, now that we've started asking questions about what that is, or what that means to people and, interestingly, how many times when the question is asked how torn or unsure most reponses are. And, to that end, I took the Greyhound Bus (to me an American icon of a bygone era). I get on it and immeadiately start thinking of that Simon and Garfunkel song that has that refrain "Kathy I said as we boarded the greyhound in Pittsburgh, I'm empty and aching and I don't know why, it took me four days to hitchhike to Saganau, I've come to look for A...MMMM...EEEE...RRRR....IIII....CCCC....AAAA".. And, the Port Authority is quite an experience the day before the most travelled holiday of the year, Thanksgiving. I had the offensive thought as I joined the many feets-long line and began the process of waiting to get on a seriously overbooked bus that I knew how it felt to be one of those poor and huddled masses at Ellis island minus, you know, the stakes of a new life and the hope and terror the new arrivals must have felt. The only thing I feel as I stand in the line is something approximating severe irritation.
Finally, we board over an hour past the time that was scheduled. I wonder if somewhere President Bush is clutching his forehead over the bus delays like he did over flight delays but I doubt it, the bus is, mainly, the refuge of the poor - real Americans own cars or take planes.