Next stop usually adds another 20 sweaty passengers, one of them is usually a farming Mennonite gent with an assortment of produce and dairy. Last trip the little man had 16 5 gallon jugs filled with aging cheese to load into the back of the bus- and it was Good Friday so there were only 2 buses running all day long, thus the bus was PACKED. The cheese was very.... well cheesey. The smell permeated the entire bus. He insisted on sitting on top of his buckets in the aisle, and fell into the lap of one of the innocent bystanders with every wild turn.
My least favorite of all the stops is a fisherman pickup. Here we load 8 burley men covered in fish guts onto the bus. Because it is standing room only they are practically in your lap, and their fishy shirts flap in your face.
You also will find at least one group of unruly teenagers drinking Belikin regardless of the time of day.
Finally to complete the trip, there is must be least one crying baby who is completely unconsolable the entire 5 hour ride.
I am sure the bus driver senses the passenger discomfort, and thus he is forced to drive 100 mph around the mountain roads slick with recent rain. The bus is on two wheels for most of the journey, and your heart is in your throat- but somehow you make it to your destination in one piece, and life seems just a little more sparkly and care-free.
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