Somewhere between DC and NYC

 

Thursday, April 12, 2012 – Somewhere Between DC and NY

I’m writing this on the DC2NY bus, en route to the Big Apple.  Even at this point in my life, I prefer to travel like I did in my much younger days.  Maybe it’s just out of habit, but both Elliott and I still shun taxis in favor of public transport, and opt for cheaper buses instead of planes.  It’s a mentality that goes back to my first trip abroad, in 1971, when I backpacked and hitchhiked around Europe, mostly on my own. 

I’m traveling alone this time, too.  In order to take the 9:15 bus to New York, I had to set the alarm clock for the ungodly hour of 5:30 a.m.  Elliott surprised me by joining me for a pre-dawn breakfast – he’s such a sweetheart.  When I went out into the morning chill to pick up the newspaper, it was still dark, but the birds were already singing, anticipating the sunrise. 

I really tried hard to pack light for this trip.  I set out a minimal amount of clothing, a second pair of shoes (hiking shoes wouldn’t work for Saturday’s concert at Lincoln Center), my laptop, and the usual vitamins, creams, lotions, etc.  How in the world did that bag get so heavy, I wondered, as I hoisted it onto my shoulder six hours ago.  Then I slung my lunch bag (another couple of pounds) around my neck and grabbed my purse.  The sky was turning light when I set off on a ten-minute hike through the woods and the adjacent subdivision to reach the bus stop on the main road.  While I waited for the bus to appear, cars whizzed past and trucks rumbled along, but I felt serene in my bubble of solitude.

The local bus took me to the Metro station, where I got on the Orange Line with the morning commuters for a ride into the District.  Once I reached Dupont Circle, I started to question the wisdom of traveling like a student.  First of all, the bag I was carrying was starting to create a permanent dent in my shoulder.  Secondly, I was in desperate need of a restroom since I no longer have the bladder of a 20-year-old.  A stop at Kramerbooks on Connecticut Avenue solved the restroom problem and a cup of coffee gave me the strength to pick up the bag again.  I’m on the bus right now, there’s not a single empty seat, and I’ve discovered that writing while riding makes me feel queasy, so I’ll have to stop.