dear concord trailways:
back in my college days, i rode the greyhound with reckless abandon. so what if it had dirty pay toilets, and if i couldn’t get on the bus without some sketchy dude giving me his phone number. 2 hours smashed up against a window with an overly chatty seatmate whose only carry on luggage was a cardboard sign- NO PROBLEM (true story). guy across the aisle trying to look down my top while suggestively rubbing his groin area- CAKE (double true story). hey, is that a LIVE RABBIT in your tote bag? YOU BET (seriously, the greyhound is NUTS). when i was 19, it seemed like par for the course to spend my bus hours sweatily clutching a snapple bottle that i could smash against the window and cut anyone who tried to touch me. greyhound and i were old friends.
but somewhere along the way… maybe around the time i got my own apartment and could no longer wear my sweatpants to work… i found you concord trailways. with your spotless and airportlike bus terminal, free donuts and juice, and in-flight movie, greyhound was a mere smelly and uncomfortable memory. and it is that undying love and respect that i have for you now (there is no other bus in my mind), that brings me here to talk to you today. concord trailways, i have an AMAZING IDEA, but i can’t do it without you.
last week, my twitter friends @badlerory77 and @drwhogirl and i were having a little chat about going to ikea. unfortunately, the closest ikea is 127 miles away. it’s tough for portlanders. many of us don’t have cars at all, and for those of us that do have cars, most are not large enough to carry a billy bookcase home without 78 bungee cords and a lot of fervent prayer. this is where you come in, with your roomy cargo compartments and plush seats…
what if a couple times a month, you took us all on a trip to ikea? picture it- a sunny saturday morning, we could have snacks and watch a movie and finally all get a chance to load up on lingonberry jam and particle board furniture. it would be the perfect combination of fun and convenience, all wrapped up in the solidarity of people who want good design but can’t afford to pay for it. all i’m saying is that i think it could really be brilliant, and i really want you to be a part of it.
you don’t have to answer right away, but promise me you’ll think about it. we’ve been together a long time… i think you owe me that much.
love forever,
allie.
broke 207 