Forget 501 things to do before you die, let me fill you in on the best way to spend 13.5 hours of your life.

Start with the most wonderful hosts dropping you off at the bus station to find the bus on time, the driver a little cranky about me having two bags rather than the Megabus standard of one, and a departure that left on time at 12noon. Proceed to the US border on time too, get through there unscathed, apart from having my oranges confiscated. Not happy, they were meant to compliment my mouldy sandwich and yummy cookies perfectly. I say mouldy, but it was only the loaf that was, my two slices were fine, not sure how the squirrels are feeling this morning though.

After the border we changed drivers. Bad move. He got us to Rochester and unwittingly took us on a grand tour, the two of us left on board following a mass departure at Buffalo Niagra airport were a little worried, especially when he called up to ask if we knew where to go. The other girl was from Toronto, and I had no clue, so after lots of U-turns we finally got out of Rochester and to Syracuse for a 7pm pick-up. We were meant to be there at 5. The driver joked that this was his first time driving back from Buffalo to New York, the passengers laughed. If only they'd known then.

As we passed the same JC Penney and Macy's three times even I started to recognise the places, but the driver was still at a loss. Luckily one of the Syracuse passengers had an idea and so guided us out, past Macy's again. The driver even reversed up a highway entrance road, pretty dodgy driving. I'm not sure why he didn't have GPS or some form of map to hand.

Once we'd got out of Syracuse and onto the main highway, heading the correct way eventually, the ride was uneventful apart from the watch-checking every so often between snoozes that revealed just how late we were. The driver didn't once call up to let us all know what was happening, or to apologise.

We finally arrived in a wet New York at 1.15am, three hours after the scheduled 10.15pm arrival. The driver added insult to injury as he went to throw one of my bags on the soaked floor as I put on my backpack. An extremely tired and fed up voice told him not to do that and he hastily put it back on the bus, not sure why he was acting like the injured party, I was the one with three bags, no hand free to hold my umbrella, and a three block walk to the hostel. He was not my favourite person.

I got to the hostel at 1.15 and was in bed by 1.45; the receptionist had offered me coffee when I was checking in so I must have looked pretty bad, but I perked up when some blokes coming in from a night out helped me take my bags up to the third floor. A long day that started off so well.

I think this experience should be the 502nd thing to do before you die. Any takers?