My travel plans, or not, were an experience right before Christmas along the (bus) lines of the classic holiday movie Planes, Trains and Automobiles. But throw in cancelled bus rides (plural) and stolen luggage also, at the very time my bus was supposed to be arriving, and then leaving again. This was not The Who’s silly Magic Bus.
But in the long haul, since I’m still able to get home for the holidays, just on a different holiday, New Year’s, I can max out on Christmas for the majority of its 12 days anyway. (But now the horrific snow and such appears slated for yet another return and encore, depending just where you are along the swirling meteorology mess). Happy New Year!
The cancellation craziness started when Flixbus bolted on me, more than two days before the trip was set to roll out down the highway on the day before Christmas Eve, leaving from the Union Depot station in St. Paul. Those highways proved heinous in places. But not nearly everywhere.
So hey, there are other options out of St. Paul, and eventually even air and Amtrak travel were considered. So my next step was to call Megabus, which I thought with their likewise once a day, every day, trip to Milwaukee, had saved me at Christmas as even in this late-going I got a fare. Or …
Little did I know there would be a round two.
When I was dropped off, I saw that I still had a few minutes before the bus arrival. Whew. Wind around the corner with my two big bags and one small and get right to the gate. That’s when my cell phone dinged and my mood flattened like a worn-out tire. There would be no bus pulling up. Like so many they were caving in to the weather. Then send days later a survey, if you are Megabus, for you to describe what was “pleasant” about your trip, the one you never took.
When I turned around to read the latter of the cancellation text messages, and more importantly the refund policy, I set a small bag down next to a stairwell, then walked up it because a big van that was loading at the time appeared to be my Megabus. (Could the text be in erroneous? But when looking further, it turned to be a metro transit vehicle). I told the other four potential passengers waiting by the depot door about the cancellation, which was so newly given that they needed to review it first on their own phones.
My non-grinchlike behavior was not rewarded, as when I turned around I could not find the bag. Apparently it had been stolen during the span of a minute or two. I initially feared that some important medications were now lost, and since they had been filled the day before, getting a replacement would not be allowed by the doctor for the majority of the coming month, which in my case could put me into medical crisis for — anxiety. That’s enough to make anyone anxious. I thought it through and determined that the medications in question were likely stowed away in another suitcase. So I breathed easier, for the moment. I wouldn’t be able to check in the well-packed luggage for them until home, however, since my driver was near. He was nice enough to double back, as I had called in the midst of my quick search to ask, while reaching down to the bag that was now non-existent, at least in my newly formed opinion. Restless, I checked around the area once more. No dice. A security guard called one of his mates to quick the video camera, and that did not yield anything, although he did wish me a Merry Christmas. Twice.
I think I know where the bag went. Preface this, there was much more security there then usual, and they were asking people about their business. One man stood out, who was trying to bum a cigarette, even though he had one in his hand. I didn’t have that, but I thought I’d dig into that bag I lost and offer him one of my last candy canes, along with good holiday cheer. But then I got sidetracked. So maybe he got one anyway. Or more.
When home, I saw that only two meds were missing — aspirin and caffeine — but both of them now seemed even more needed. Then when sitting down to write this story, the news hit my brain like a blizzard cyclone bomb — my newly minted reporter’s notebook was also gone with the wind. Would I still have the write stuff?
The driver had been sympathetic, on various fronts. The company should have known well beforehand that travel would be curtailed, although the storm could have been far worse in the area as far as snow, but the roads were just a bit greasy traveling out of St. Paul, getting cleaner while heading east. “What you really have to watch is the black ice,” he said, adding there was precious little of this to make him in danger of a skid. Upon further review with weather reports, conditions had turned worse again with heavier snow near Madison, which tapered off near Milwaukee until the lake effect hit as busses veered south to Chicago — the entire route my vehicle would have taken. So there were a lot of factors for the bus company planners to consider.
It is ironic, he agreed, that the big bus company based in Germany, which had bought-out Greyhound, would be more on top of weather situations, and canceled on a timely basis, then one with a longer tenure in the States. And they followed up before the holiday was over, to offer a 25 percent discount on the next ride. Megabus, on the other hand, did not send what was only an automated cell phone survey to me until two days later, which asked if I had a “pleasant” trip (by bus or driver?). Then back to Flixbus, and their new offer of a 25 percent discount on a next fare for my trouble, although the time-frame to use it isn’t long. Could I claim that, both, along with my refund/new trip? Or have to pick one? A latter email from Flixbus said they were experiencing some fine-tuning with their very revised slate of post-acquisition pickup spots. Maybe used their off-time due to weather to get that tweaked. Sounds reasonable to me; my family not as forgiving. And my inbox continues to be bombarded with more offers and counter-offers from both bus services, some tied to the trip that never was. Greyhound would make three.
The local geography of it …
As we neared Lakeland and the state line, other considerations came into play. The next fare lived near Somerset. Winding through Bayport, then using the new Stillwater bridge sounded pretty sweet, and I remember thinking I could see those three church steeples near downtown Stillwater against the horizon if I turned my head. A sweet view I thought, and help salvage the holiday. Taking the other route around the river from Hudson to Houlton, I feared, could yield the same problem I had encountered a number of times on Wisconsin Hwy. 35 just to the south of the bridge after construction — very bad fog, or in this case wind driven snow.
As it was, we opted to go to New Richmond via Roberts, and Interstate 94 was fine for driving, with Wisconsin Hwy. 65 having more blowing snow.
A recent text from my mom had said that almost everyone on the other end was sick, some quite a bit so, thus the new plan might have been for the best anyway. Could they even make it that night? One moderately ill couple said they would try, but would they expose my elderly dad. My brother was in need for his shovel, a Christmas present. And his daughter had a crazy story like mine, locked out of their house with the dog and having to seek shelter in a nearby church. Fitting during this season.
Once in the apartment building, I saw that a Good Samaritan/Santa — maybe even the carrier himself — had dropped copies of the area advertising shopper right at the doorways of some of the units.
Inside, there was one more trick waiting to be played on me. I phoned my mom back and gave her a further breakdown of what the coming weekend would or could entail — she had been next on the initial calling chain after my driver — and while on the line, the power went out. Or appeared to. Again a trick. After a bit of pondering, I thought it odd that the computer was still on, so I flipped the light switches and thank God there was again light!
And over Christmas itself back there, the TV went out during the Packer game, but this time the coverage could not be restored until the final whistle.
And that carry-on bag that was stolen? Mom replaced it in triplicate, as a gift, when I actually got home for Christmas/New Year. I guess the travel plans, such as they were, gave her a lot more shopping time.