It's fair to say that my second encounter with Megabus was even worse than my first: not only did the bus fail to turn up until forty-five minutes after it was due, but this load was almost full, meaning I had to stand amongst pigeon poop and native New Yorkers with my backpack at capacity and my newly acquired hand luggage digging into my shoulder. Okay so the latter was the fault of Megabus, but they're the ones who positioned their pick-up point in a vast open area rather than somewhere with benches or anything else backpackers might be able to lean their 23kg bags on whilst waiting for their late bus. Alas I shouldn't moan as it was only $30, but it's my prerogative to moan so I shall.

Once we were on the bus and away the driver announced over the tannoy that we wouldn't be stopping at her usual haunt of Dunkin Donuts, but instead at McDonald's, because of course this is the important information when you're sitting down for a ten hour bus ride that's already an hour late. She then warned us all to cover our mouths when sneezing and coughing: another life lesson courtesy of Megabus, maybe they should put that on a billboard in Times Square, because Lord knows there are enough people who need to take notice. Grotty b*****s.

Unfortunately I was the one doing the coughing and the sneezing as my immune system has decided to fail me near the last hurdle; the thought of clean sheets and cockroachless shower must have made it relax a little too much. I remembered to cover my mouth at all times though: I attribute that little manner to Mr and Mrs Smith rather than Megabus though.

I was probably getting a few dirty looks as the bus drove merrily along, mainly because of the sneezing, etc, but also because I was wearing the same jumper and jeans I'd had on for the past three days. Gross I hear you say, well yes, but I'm clinging onto this backpacker thing for as long as possible, and besides, somebody's got to make the bus a last resort or the prices'll go up for the likes of moi. I ramble.

We got to the driver's beloved McDonald's at 7, where I happened to mention to Mum that we were running late, before the grease had dropped from the spotty cashier's forehead into the fries they'd rung Margaret and Daniel to warn them about the delay (and my impending washing: the shame). Good parents to have I reckon.

Crossing the border at 10.30 was pretty uneventful, well not for the foreign lady having every item in her luggage inspected by a gloved officer, but I got through stress-free. The border control bloke flicked through my passport and got quite excited to see all my stamps, even discussed Rotorua at length with me, meaning I wasn't asked too many questions about the many bags I had about me. I knew travelling would come in handy.

I eventually passed the CN Tower at 12.15am and got to see its snazzy light show before entering the bus station where Daniel was waiting for me, luckily they hadn't given up on me, even though I'd managed to miss two calls whilst my phone was in my bag and I was in the land of nod. Into the car and off to the luxury of a home for a few days. Heaven.