An Experiment in Live Blogging

I can think of few things duller than live blogging my bus ride to Washington, DC, but because the BoltBus has wi-fi, I simply cannot help myself. Here goes.

0815: I've "tornado packed" for Bolivia (12/27), and I totally underdid it on the clothing front. This happened when I went to C-olombia earlier this year. I texted C in a panic as he was already at Newark Airport, having been more disciplined than I am since his train from Princeton ran less often than the on-demand taxi from my apartment. "What's the weather like in Colombia?" "Just throw something in a bag and come on." I am pissed now when I read his Facebook update which notes that he is already packed and ready for his own trip home. I guess I can buy clothes in Bolivia if I run out. Cheery Alpaca sweaters, anyone?

0823: I couldn't get a taxi to the PATH because it was raining, and everyone wanted a taxi to the PATH. And I have my backpack, which is a lot heavier than I remember. But there's a bus that goes from in front of my house to Port Authority, so I am waiting on it.

0824: I see the bus up the block, leaving. It wasn't waiting at its usual stop because, as I now notice, the bay was full of ice. I trudge to the PATH in the rain. Not so bad. Half the walk is through the Newport Mall and an attached office building.

0835: Train pulls in just as I do. Off to 33rd and 6th. BoltBus stop is at 33rd and 7th.

0900: Standing in line at BoltBus stop. There's a big gap between me and the guy in front of me, cuz he has an umbrella and I am huddled under an awning next to SBarro.

0902: Driver calls out "B!" My printout says "B." Apparently A and B get to board first. The driver puts my pack under the bus and I board. Another customer tells me that if you sign up at the BoltBus website, you are always an A no matter how late you buy you ticket.

0920: A large man smushes in from the aisle and crushes my a/c adapter, which make a horrible crack. He doesn't notice, nor does he hear my whining pleas to "EXCUSE ME!" I have visions of no power for two days (I doubt the Apple Store is open on Christmas). I pull it out from the outlet and inspect it. Bent. Fortunately, it still works. I glare at him. He switches seats and a nicer, smaller man sits next to me. A sensible man.

0930: Departure.

0932: The driver gets some kind of call, then announces that the Lincoln Tunnel is closed in both directions. What? It's going to be a long day. NJ Turnpike in rain on Christmas Eve. Joy to the world indeed. We head south to the Holland.

0950: The same passenger who told me about the hot Boltbus A tip informs the driver that the next right is Varick Street and will get him to the Holland Tunnel. The driver is like "No duh, woman." She's gone too far.

0955: We are in the Tunnel. There is wi-fi. THERE IS WI-FI IN THE HOLLAND TUNNEL, on the BoltBus. That's strange. I am kind of freaked out by this revelation.

1000: We sail by my apartment, only three blocks away. What a shame I cannot flag the bus down from the Hess station.

1006: Doing about 40 mph on the NJ Turnpike Spur.

1012: By Exit 13, I make the astonishing discovery that staring at a laptop on a moving bus makes me want to vomit. Shutting down.