User:Zuperjulian/sandbox

 They say the highways between L.A. and San Francisco are breathtaking but we never saw them. 7 pm at the train station and the whole world’s wasted. We hold hands through beating crowds of marauders, make our way to the travel shop. You get two enormous Poland Springs water bottles, I try to find sleep masks but the cashier says they don’t have them. After that Mexican place, neither of us have appetites so we head back out into the bustle. The people come in waves with arriving trains and we are moving against the current. We follow endless arrows and gate numbers through the hallways then take a steep escalator up, up, up, you in front, me behind.

We reach open air. In L.A. it’s nice even in December. Each bus stop is lit up with its destination on an electric sign. We find ours, a few people are already waiting. I am curious to see what sort of people take a greyhound on new years but they all seem pretty normal. A woman wearing several jackets staggers between the small crowd with a backpack that’s bigger than her. She’s trying to get someone to buy her a ticket. “Shit man, I need to get out of town tonight!” she cries.

Her face looks a little melted and everyone tries to ignore her. Eventually the bus pulls in and our driver comes out to briefly explain the rules of the bus. As she’s talking the woman with the melted face tries to sneak on. Our driver notices and kicks her out.

On the bus we take off our shoes and curl into each other to try to sleep. The bumps of the road are no gentle rocking but we manage eventually. You wake me with the pop of the cork off our stolen wine. It’s 11:59. Do you recall? We shared new-years kisses Like champagne bubbles.