A nicely dressed, middle aged woman, who'd been sitting next to us, walked over to the main passenger door and laid down on the dirty, carpet-less floor for a nap. Waking up a few minutes later she tried to rise. Resisting her efforts were her skirt and the big plastic ficus whose shade she been recently enjoying. On her hands and knees she swayed forward and butted the ficus. The big plastic tree retaliated by falling on top of her. Worthy of WWF the match went back and forth. A young man to our right was making book so I put two bucks on the ficus. Meanwhile a guy with a steamer trunk was trying to convince the clerk that the mammoth thing should be considered a carry-on and thus not subject to the $15 checked bag fee. All the while a jolly, bald, red cheeked and nattily dressed man stood before us calling out the routes of the arriving busses. "Washington, DC", he'd sing out and then add, "If you're going to Miami don't get on this bus." On he went calling out the bus routes all the while seemingly unaware of the craziness going on around him. I have a theory that Alice in Wonderland was written after a visit to a Greyhound Station.
We were in the Greyhound bus station to fetch our new crew member, and Maryland winter refugee, Bob Allnutt. Bob survived 24 hours on a Greyhound bus getting to Ft. Lauderdale. Can PTSD be far off for him?
Still on mooring #1 in the Las Olas field. 0nm today, although it was a 6 mile walk to the Greyhound bus station and back, and 174nm for the trip. DBH.
