Fung Wahhhhhhh????

Written by hootenannie on December 9th, 2007

I am convinced that the loneliest feeling in the world is walking through the streets of New York on a Sunday morning all by one’s self, pulling over 100 lbs. of luggage, and having to navigate the stairs down into the subway. Oh, and then to eject said self from the train straight back up the stairs into Chinatown, and lug one’s belongings like a pack mule, searching for the Fung Wah bus to Boston – which, by the way, provides no guarantee that it will make it to Boston without exploding on the freeway or blowing a tire. A regular occurrence, I’m told.

Thus began my morning.

When I finally arrived at the ticket window, my hands were blistered from pulling my bags, and I could scarcely sign my name on the form for my shaking extremities. I loaded my suitcases onto the bus, and boarded.

This is where I realized that God never wastes anything. Thinking back to September, my sister’s dog Gabe barfed on the backseat of my car, and I almost barfed right on top of it. I now know that that unsavory event was simply in preparation for the smell on-board the Fung Wah. It was as if the good Lord gave me an early, preparatory dosage of repulsive stench to ready and steady me for today’s odor.

Luckily, I secured a window seat, and wound up sitting behind two teenage kids who were sharing one set of iPod earbuds and a box of Frosted Flakes. Note to self: do not chew dry cereal in public. The crunch very well could earn you a good throttling.

The hoodlum behind me failed to silence the obnoxious ringer on his cell phone, and talked continuously to his various homies. “Yo, dawg, what up? Ah, I’m on the bus. You know how it is.” Sir? Do they, really?

We embarked on what can only be described as a terrifying journey in a glorified sardine can, hurtling across New England. But how can I complain? For $15 and in just 4 hours, it got me where I was going: Boston, to Christina’s Beacon Hill apartment, with exposed brick walls, and wine and cheese and olives waiting on the table.

More about the end of my New York adventure tomorrow. Until then, Boston beckons.

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