So, you thought my Sunday, January 9th, 15-hour bus trip from Cincinnati to Toronto Police Pipe Band practice was wild. It ended up being nothing compared to my trip home…

I got on the bus from Toronto to Buffalo okay and had zero problems at customs – which was nice. However, others took a little longer to get through than I did and the bus ended up arriving in Buffalo, NY at midnight instead of 1145 pm. No call was ever made to the station to tell them to hold the connecting busses for other passengers and my bus to Cleveland left at 1145 pm as scheduled. The only problem was: I wasn’t on that bus. So I asked the desk guy what the deal was and he told me that the next bus to Cleveland left at 7:00 am the next morning and that “he’s sorry, but you’ll just have to fill out a complaint form”. That was the best he could do. So I did.

I sat around and waited…and waited…and waited some more. I had no food, no transportation, no American money, and the only places that would have taken a credit card were shut down for the night. So I resigned myself to sleeping on the bus station floor (God only knows what germs I picked up) using my new kilt as my blanket and my pipe case as my pillow.

The next morning, the bus came on time, and took me to Cleveland where I was then informed that the next bus to Cincinnati didn’t leave until 3:45 pm (we would arrive in Cleveland at 10:45am). At least their restaurant was open so I could get something to eat. When I got on the bus to Cincinnati, I couldn’t help feeling relieved that I was going home at last and that this simple excursion to band practice was finally over. Wrong. The bus driver should never have gotten her license…

By the time we made it to the first stop on the way to Cincy, we were nearly side-swiped by semi-tractor-trailers trying to get on the highway twice. She wouldn’t move over for them – or slow down to let them on the highway — and she was on her cell phone. Then for some reason we stopped at West Salem, Ohio, which is a little Amish town with approximately one paved road — and it was covered in snow.

The “bus stop” was an Amish convenience store up an unpaved hill covered in snow and just wide enough for the bus to drive up. There was no place to turn around. One side of the fence was lined with horses and buggies and the other with rusted and dead farm equipment. I saw a real Amish guy, too. I’ve only seen them on TV, and for once, TV was accurate…

When the driver sat back down to back us out you could see that she had realized that she hadn’t planned out her arrival very well. First, we got stuck in the snow bank. Once free of the snow bank, instead of backing out, she lost control of the bus and we ended up sliding down the embankment sideways and backwards. We’re lucky the bus didn’t roll over.

Then it was on to Cincinnati. It took me 26 hours to get home. I am now boycotting the bus system.

I have a feeling I am going to have more stories to follow.

Reil Becker, Piper
Toronto Police Pipe Band (Grade One)