Longest week of my life. Housed in a bus station that looks like a phony façade in a cheap spaghetti western. Sleeping in bunk beds (men on one side; women, across the aisle). Eating from cans (had it better when I was given thirty days for DUI). Unisex port-a-potties (no mirrors). Fellow travelers, all strangers: scuzzy men, dowdy women, screaming brats. Can’t wait to get back to the city even though it means fourteen hours on a bus with twenty stinking has-been, never-were actors; equally unattractive crew. Ultimate insult: just found out I ended up on the cutting-room floor.
(Inspired by Ron Pruitt’s photo, madison-woods.com, Friday Fictioneers, October 19, 2012.)