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Half way stop at Jackson Tennessee (not to be confused with Jackson, Mississippi in the adjacent state which we went through on the train from New Orleans. Is it really necessary to have two towns with the same name so close together?)
But I digress. There is a story to tell about bus travel, or at least our experiences about it on this journey.
I had booked our two tickets for $15 each and I became concerned when I read the small print on the tickets which said "travel not guaranteed, seating on a first come first served basis". So we elected to go to the bus station early this morning to see what the procedures were. And, we are pleased that we did.
We had 1 and 1/2 hours and were second in the queue. With an hour to go the queue had snaked through the terminal. We had to weigh our bags and then line them up at the boarding gate to secure our position. A group of men (from Mexico) were behind us and the line continued to grow! There was no way all these people were going to fit on the bus.
Nine o'clock and 20 minutes before departure a large lady (think Queen Latifda) came to the gate. This is one woman in control. Some folk were trying to interrupt her and she put them in their place. She was barking destinations and trying to get order from the crowd waiting. Firstly the transfer passengers boarded and a few no transits tried to get on early. "See that line down there, that's where you go - down back!" She spoke with no nonsense and obvious years experience dealing with a mob who were singled minded on getting a seat. There was much "darling...dear...honey,...sir...ma'am", being spoken by her and passengers, either out of respect or fear that they would not get a seat. Time for the boarding passengers to pass Queenie and we were now first in line. Well I upset Queenie by giving her my baggage stub and not my ticket! I still got a "darling" and a "honey" in between her telling some young girl not to interrupt, 'I still like you honey, but don't interrupt me, go to the end over there', and the young girl sheepishly turned away.
About 15 people got on the bus and Queenie came up counting seats and joking with passengers about not saving seats as she was trying to count and needed seats for passengers getting on at Jackson. She had a great southern sense of humour amidst her controlling and organising voice and mannerisms. I think there must have been at least another 40 people who did not get on the bus. Was there a second bus or would they have to wait till the next scheduled service at 1pm this afternoon? I must ask.
Well the doors closed and guess who sat in the drivers seat? Queenie! She was still wise cracking, rebuking someone for something and chatting to the relief driver sitting in a passenger seat next to her. We were on our way.... I just hope it is Nashville as some of the announcements were lost in translation.
After just under 2 hours we arrived in Jackson. It was like stepping back into the past. A quaint town, looked impoverished, but still with that Southern feel. The Greyhound Terminal - pictured, was a 60's postcard of all things retro American. Queenie was still in control lovingly barking instructions to boarding passengers about where to sit. One girl copped a mouthful for not showing Queenie her ticket.
With Queenie still driving we are on our way again... Next stop Nashville.
- comments
Shane Swanepoel Hahahahaha that is a pretty funny story indeed. I think I would have been scared of Queenie myself!!