looking up at the stars, i can't believe i did that all those years ago
back in 2001 i went with my parents to Toronto for the first time. it was also the first time I'd landed in North America, a country of which I'd read, wrote and studied about for many years beforehand and had a rapt fascination with for many years before right up to present day.
While we were in the country I agreed that I would go and take a greyhound bus across the border to Pittsburgh so I could see the stadium I thought so much of (Three Rivers) up close and personal before it was imploded a few weeks later.
I had never been the bravest soul in the coffin (?) so this would be a considerable adventure for me to undertake alone. And needless to say the apprehension was high. Eventually though I got the tickets from Toronto bus station and was set to depart that evening at 10pm. As a result I spent the last two hours on some kind of weird countdown and could hardly hold my head together such was the anxiety in my head. In the end I had a hot chocolate in the hotel restaurant while the tannoy played Sarah McLachlan's Sweet Surrender. Such was the occasion that I cannot think of that song ever again without flashbacking to that moment.
Eventually I got on the bus and off I went. Going on a holiday inside a holiday. And it would be a 24 hour trip to remember.
To get to Pittsburgh would take 12 hours and 2 changes. At Buffalo and Cleveland on the way there and at Erie, PA and Buffalo on the way back to Toronto.
Points of the trip:
Buffalo. I never saw it in the daylight, only in the blizzard snow of winter. It is the border crossing between the 2 countries and I had to pay $14 and get the third degree from a guy behind the counter as to the exact reason why I was coming into the USA at that point. Remember this is before 9/11 and if I'm honest I was pretty surprised at the guy's attitude at the time. But I realised that I knew little about Americans aside from my own family and his attitude at keeping "the wolf from America's door" may have been entirely justified.
The station itself at the time was dead. Only one guy working in the all-night bakery and 4 vending machines. The toilets were something out of Dante. I got my 2nd bus on time, sometime around 1am to Cleveland which was full of 'Philadelphia deadheads' according to the driver. Place reeks of BO and I manage to catch a few minutes of sleep before we pull into Cleveland.
Wow, Cleveland is BEIGE! The whole bus station is that colour. I then discover the problem with US currency. The coinage is identical, and it was a nice guy serving me french-vanilla latte that helped me out telling me the differences between nickels and dimes and half-dollars.
The bus terminal also had Police Academy 3 playing on a big screen in the central waiting area. Quite a few people watching it too. I then use the bathroom and get stopped by a big African-American police officer who accuses me of being high on something and has me lean against the wall to have my pockets searched. He confiscates my Starbucks breath-mints.
Finally we get the Pittsburgh ride at 5am.
Pittsburgh.
I am tired, but curious. I have french toast for the first time in the bus station cafeteria and can't get my head around it. Coffee tastes nice though. I have no map, no street guide, just a vague idea of where things are. In the end I take a cab to the stadium but it's all locked tight and you can't get near it. So I go to the Andy Warhol museum instead.
I get my photo taken in the famous black and white booth in the basement, walk around the exhibitions, eat, go to the gift shop, buy Pittsburgh playing cards.
I then go on the search for Steeler stuff. And am treated pretty rudely in a store selling apparel, I guess they don't deal well with outta-towners. Finally I have another coffee and head back to the bus station to catch the 6pm bus out of the city and the 12 hour drive back to Toronto.
The bus driver is called Israel. He doesn't want any drugs, guns or weapons of mass destruction on his bus. He has to tell us this directly as his intercom on the greyhound is busted. We have to tell him when the lights are green on the crosswalks.
I get dropped off at Erie, PA and read my book about Jack Lambert in a waiting room smaller than my current apartment which has a packman arcade game in the corner.I don't think this place is in retro-mode, it's just THAT old. Eventually the next bus comes to Buffalo and during the trip we make a stop at a services on the freeway and everyone gets out to pee and buy stuff and even the driver joins us. We see some footballs on display with reduced labels on them. I say they can't sell them cos they're covered in Bengals decals, the driver laughs. I make friends with two other Americans on the greyhound and we talk about all the stereotypes Americans and Brits have about each other. Not all Americans live in the ghetto, not all Brits have crumpets and tea at 4pm. I also proclaim to the entire bus that American chocolate is horrific, they all agree.
Finally we're back in the Buffalo stop with the toilets from Dante. I pass through the place at speed - I guess American security doesn't care if you're leaving, only if you're coming in - and I'm going back to Toronto. And I get trapped in the onboard toilet at one point, given the noise of the engine I have to wait until the driver brakes to bang on the door so I'm heard. Finally someone comes to let me out.
I get back to Toronto to see the guys gritting the roads. I take their picture and wish them good luck.
I then have to go with my family to some village of the Mennonites up in the rurals of the province. So far I've had about 3 hours sleep in the last 48, and would have none over the next 18. 3 days without serious sleep is still my record.
I'm writing about this now because I still can't believe I did it. And I took a lot of pictures that day and some of those pictures are going into my portfolio for the Wednesday meeting. And it was such an odd time in my life, one that might never have come into being had I not decided to take that year out from college. Life is corkscrewing. It was back in 2001, it is now I think. And although it is scary and difficult at the moment, it really is a wonderful ride.
While we were in the country I agreed that I would go and take a greyhound bus across the border to Pittsburgh so I could see the stadium I thought so much of (Three Rivers) up close and personal before it was imploded a few weeks later.
I had never been the bravest soul in the coffin (?) so this would be a considerable adventure for me to undertake alone. And needless to say the apprehension was high. Eventually though I got the tickets from Toronto bus station and was set to depart that evening at 10pm. As a result I spent the last two hours on some kind of weird countdown and could hardly hold my head together such was the anxiety in my head. In the end I had a hot chocolate in the hotel restaurant while the tannoy played Sarah McLachlan's Sweet Surrender. Such was the occasion that I cannot think of that song ever again without flashbacking to that moment.
Eventually I got on the bus and off I went. Going on a holiday inside a holiday. And it would be a 24 hour trip to remember.
To get to Pittsburgh would take 12 hours and 2 changes. At Buffalo and Cleveland on the way there and at Erie, PA and Buffalo on the way back to Toronto.
Points of the trip:
Buffalo. I never saw it in the daylight, only in the blizzard snow of winter. It is the border crossing between the 2 countries and I had to pay $14 and get the third degree from a guy behind the counter as to the exact reason why I was coming into the USA at that point. Remember this is before 9/11 and if I'm honest I was pretty surprised at the guy's attitude at the time. But I realised that I knew little about Americans aside from my own family and his attitude at keeping "the wolf from America's door" may have been entirely justified.
The station itself at the time was dead. Only one guy working in the all-night bakery and 4 vending machines. The toilets were something out of Dante. I got my 2nd bus on time, sometime around 1am to Cleveland which was full of 'Philadelphia deadheads' according to the driver. Place reeks of BO and I manage to catch a few minutes of sleep before we pull into Cleveland.
Wow, Cleveland is BEIGE! The whole bus station is that colour. I then discover the problem with US currency. The coinage is identical, and it was a nice guy serving me french-vanilla latte that helped me out telling me the differences between nickels and dimes and half-dollars.
The bus terminal also had Police Academy 3 playing on a big screen in the central waiting area. Quite a few people watching it too. I then use the bathroom and get stopped by a big African-American police officer who accuses me of being high on something and has me lean against the wall to have my pockets searched. He confiscates my Starbucks breath-mints.
Finally we get the Pittsburgh ride at 5am.
Pittsburgh.
I am tired, but curious. I have french toast for the first time in the bus station cafeteria and can't get my head around it. Coffee tastes nice though. I have no map, no street guide, just a vague idea of where things are. In the end I take a cab to the stadium but it's all locked tight and you can't get near it. So I go to the Andy Warhol museum instead.
I get my photo taken in the famous black and white booth in the basement, walk around the exhibitions, eat, go to the gift shop, buy Pittsburgh playing cards.
I then go on the search for Steeler stuff. And am treated pretty rudely in a store selling apparel, I guess they don't deal well with outta-towners. Finally I have another coffee and head back to the bus station to catch the 6pm bus out of the city and the 12 hour drive back to Toronto.
The bus driver is called Israel. He doesn't want any drugs, guns or weapons of mass destruction on his bus. He has to tell us this directly as his intercom on the greyhound is busted. We have to tell him when the lights are green on the crosswalks.
I get dropped off at Erie, PA and read my book about Jack Lambert in a waiting room smaller than my current apartment which has a packman arcade game in the corner.I don't think this place is in retro-mode, it's just THAT old. Eventually the next bus comes to Buffalo and during the trip we make a stop at a services on the freeway and everyone gets out to pee and buy stuff and even the driver joins us. We see some footballs on display with reduced labels on them. I say they can't sell them cos they're covered in Bengals decals, the driver laughs. I make friends with two other Americans on the greyhound and we talk about all the stereotypes Americans and Brits have about each other. Not all Americans live in the ghetto, not all Brits have crumpets and tea at 4pm. I also proclaim to the entire bus that American chocolate is horrific, they all agree.
Finally we're back in the Buffalo stop with the toilets from Dante. I pass through the place at speed - I guess American security doesn't care if you're leaving, only if you're coming in - and I'm going back to Toronto. And I get trapped in the onboard toilet at one point, given the noise of the engine I have to wait until the driver brakes to bang on the door so I'm heard. Finally someone comes to let me out.
I get back to Toronto to see the guys gritting the roads. I take their picture and wish them good luck.
I then have to go with my family to some village of the Mennonites up in the rurals of the province. So far I've had about 3 hours sleep in the last 48, and would have none over the next 18. 3 days without serious sleep is still my record.
I'm writing about this now because I still can't believe I did it. And I took a lot of pictures that day and some of those pictures are going into my portfolio for the Wednesday meeting. And it was such an odd time in my life, one that might never have come into being had I not decided to take that year out from college. Life is corkscrewing. It was back in 2001, it is now I think. And although it is scary and difficult at the moment, it really is a wonderful ride.