Now_ish: Dep: 03:25a / Arr: 08:45p / Travel Time: 1d, 19h, 20m
The closer I got to LA, the more nervous I got. By the time I was ready to get off at the bus station, I was a ball of stress. My hands were shaking.
My last night in St. Louis was weird. I got the money that afternoon and bought my ticket right away. I spent the night in the hostel that I'd spent all my money at before, and cleaned myself up. At that point, I wasn't really nervous, I was just excited. I'd made a choice to go back, and in the beginning of the return trip home, I felt resolute. I went out to this boutique place and bought Buffy a really pretty hairclip as an apology for ditching out. Realizing that I couldn't just buy her something, and ignore other people, I bought one for Gwen too. Presents are supposed to bridge rifts, right? I mean, especially with girls?
I woke up at two a.m. and walked to the bus terminal, missing my walkman at every step. I bought jerky and an apple and a big bottle of water. Used the facilities. Looked for someone cool to sit with, but they were all creepy middle-of-the-night bus people. Many of whom looked like convicts. A few of whom looked like vampires, even though they probably weren't. It didn't matter, though, because no one sat next to me for the first 10 hours of the ride.
I just looked out the window, ate my snacks and thought. I tried to remember all the lyrics on Pinkerton. I thought about Sunnydale, and LA. I thought about Warren and Jonathan. I thought about Buffy and Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. I tried to imagine what my brother looked like now. I even got so bored that I tried to watch Empire Strikes Back in my head, but I kept getting the chronology wrong. I think I fell asleep.
When I woke up, there was a skinny, punky boy named Justice sitting next to me. He and I talked for a couple hours. He had just graduated from high school, and he was moving to California. Guess why? Yes. To become a star. I almost cried when I heard him say that, thinking of LA, and all the people who move there to "get theirs" or "make a difference" or "become a star," and then wind up getting eaten by a vampire, or becoming a hooker, or working at In & Out.
It was talking to Justice that got me so nervous, I think. I was kind of dancing around my reasons for going back, saying that I was "part of a community" that did "charity work" and that I "really had to get back from my sabbatical." I flinched when I heard myself explain why I was going back. I sounded like a priest or a teacher who'd been ex-communicated or laid off. It was creepy and it felt so fake coming out of my mouth. I just kept quiet after that.
Justice got off in Burbank, and I gave him the phone number to the Hyperion, in case he needed someone to talk to. He'd never call, I knew. But, it felt like the right thing to do. I tried to think good thoughts about Justice finding a quality agent and a job on a sit-com, instead of me and what I was about to do. When I got off at the bus station downtown and took another bus to the Hyperion, I had to wipe my sweaty hands on my pants every 30 seconds. I tried to think positively -- that there would be someone to welcome me home. Someone that had worried about me, or... maybe someone who'd even missed me. But, positive thinking didn't work. My mouth dried up and I began to quake as I walked up the front steps and opened the door.
"Hello?"
[[Open to anyone, with the warning that I might not know how Andrew interacted with you previously.]]
My last night in St. Louis was weird. I got the money that afternoon and bought my ticket right away. I spent the night in the hostel that I'd spent all my money at before, and cleaned myself up. At that point, I wasn't really nervous, I was just excited. I'd made a choice to go back, and in the beginning of the return trip home, I felt resolute. I went out to this boutique place and bought Buffy a really pretty hairclip as an apology for ditching out. Realizing that I couldn't just buy her something, and ignore other people, I bought one for Gwen too. Presents are supposed to bridge rifts, right? I mean, especially with girls?
I woke up at two a.m. and walked to the bus terminal, missing my walkman at every step. I bought jerky and an apple and a big bottle of water. Used the facilities. Looked for someone cool to sit with, but they were all creepy middle-of-the-night bus people. Many of whom looked like convicts. A few of whom looked like vampires, even though they probably weren't. It didn't matter, though, because no one sat next to me for the first 10 hours of the ride.
I just looked out the window, ate my snacks and thought. I tried to remember all the lyrics on Pinkerton. I thought about Sunnydale, and LA. I thought about Warren and Jonathan. I thought about Buffy and Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. I tried to imagine what my brother looked like now. I even got so bored that I tried to watch Empire Strikes Back in my head, but I kept getting the chronology wrong. I think I fell asleep.
When I woke up, there was a skinny, punky boy named Justice sitting next to me. He and I talked for a couple hours. He had just graduated from high school, and he was moving to California. Guess why? Yes. To become a star. I almost cried when I heard him say that, thinking of LA, and all the people who move there to "get theirs" or "make a difference" or "become a star," and then wind up getting eaten by a vampire, or becoming a hooker, or working at In & Out.
It was talking to Justice that got me so nervous, I think. I was kind of dancing around my reasons for going back, saying that I was "part of a community" that did "charity work" and that I "really had to get back from my sabbatical." I flinched when I heard myself explain why I was going back. I sounded like a priest or a teacher who'd been ex-communicated or laid off. It was creepy and it felt so fake coming out of my mouth. I just kept quiet after that.
Justice got off in Burbank, and I gave him the phone number to the Hyperion, in case he needed someone to talk to. He'd never call, I knew. But, it felt like the right thing to do. I tried to think good thoughts about Justice finding a quality agent and a job on a sit-com, instead of me and what I was about to do. When I got off at the bus station downtown and took another bus to the Hyperion, I had to wipe my sweaty hands on my pants every 30 seconds. I tried to think positively -- that there would be someone to welcome me home. Someone that had worried about me, or... maybe someone who'd even missed me. But, positive thinking didn't work. My mouth dried up and I began to quake as I walked up the front steps and opened the door.
"Hello?"
[[Open to anyone, with the warning that I might not know how Andrew interacted with you previously.]]