I was relieved to be on the Greyhound Bus back to Washington D.C.. Whe had a stop over in Raleigh, North Carolina for 1 hour 30 minutes, when I handed in my ticket to climb on the bus they stopped me and told me that the bus was full. It felt like I was on this treadmill and couldn't get off, one near disaster after another sending the blood coursing through my veins. After realising that it was not going to be easy getting my bike off the bus the one driver why had tried to bump me off eventually agreed to take the next bus and I took his seat next to a another big driver determined to make himself comfortable at my expense, so we jostled for the middle arm rest until the following stop over in Richmond.
After nearly 11 hours on the bus we swung into Union Station, Washington D.C. where I was going to meet a chap interested in buying the bicycle. I hoped he would come or it could be a nightmare trying to carry this enormous box across town onto trains and buses to make my way to Dulles Airport. I phoned him, I just got his voice mail, my spirit sunk, a few minutes later my cell rang, it was him, phew,we agreed to meet me in the street adjacent to the bus depot. He was a short Mongoloid looking fellow, I thought to myself "Oh no, this bike is going to be too big for him". He confirmed what accessories went with the bike and then started to assemble it very quickly, I began to get the feel that it wasn't for himself but for resale. Ten minutes later,the deal was done, my wallet fuller and 27 pounds lighter, I made my way through the maize of concourses to the Metro Station, where I was to catch a train and then a 5A bus to Washington D.C..
Hmmm, the platform I was to wait on was closed, we were now sharing a rail line with the opposite platform, I enquired with a tall pretty young blonde lady in boots and short skirt if I was at the right platform and which train to catch. She seemed to have the whole thing sown up as she ran her fingers over her smart phone, not only was she going to tell me which and where but also how long to wait. Another young chap with dark curly hair , glasses and a beard came over and asked "Did you say Dulles airport?" as he began shifting his fingers over his smart phone and advising accordingly.
I thought "Wow",these people are so helpful".
On reaching Dulles Airport I went over to the Air France counter who were partnering with KLM and Delta airlines and even though I flew in with Delta and not a lot was working on that plane,so much so they offered me a $50 voucher. I was reluctant to do business with them. I had dealings with them in the past in 2009 when we were in California and wanted to change our tickets for an earlier flight, they came up with a price of $800/ticket. I told them I could get a return at that price with another airline.
The Air France people told me that if I wanted to use the $50 voucher I would have to phone Delta to change the ticket. I spoke to a chap there who told me it would cost $300+ to change. I said "Thank you" and put the phone down. I called Air France, the lady on the other end said it would be $160 to change the flight from 2 December to the next day. I immediately gave her my debit card details and then strolled up and down the airport as it emptied of travellers and the cleaning squad came in to polish,sweep and gloss. One of the Hispanic cleaners asked if I was sleeping there tonight in her broken English and then gave me her bottled water. I hadn't slept much in 3 days , I found a corner, took out my sleeping bag, put my jacket over my head and closed my eyes. The next morning, I went into the family room (because it has a basin) and washed myself, my hair and brushed my teeth. I didn't have a fresh shirt and I wasn't going to smell of stale body odour the entire 7 hour flight so I took out my short sleeved shirt and washed it, then positioned it near the hand dryer, once it was slightly damp I put it on and went outside to catch some sun. Time went quickly and before I knew it we were boarding and on our way home, back to the easy comfortable life and my darling Karen. No more, sitting on a hard saddle, sleeping amongst crickets,deer,spiders and other creatures. No more wondering where I would sleep that night, no more at the mercy of passing trucks, cars and bikes. Whilst touring alone was hard and not really my bag it still had it's positives, such as being alone with God, who I began talking to more and more and trusting more and more. My health and fitness had improved, my faith in humanity increased as I encountered good Samaritans one after the other, almost as though they had orchestrated this queue just for me. They were a mix of all sorts of people and religions and I think they touched my heart more than I was able to touch theirs. Through all of this , I could not help but to see God in all of it.
After nearly 11 hours on the bus we swung into Union Station, Washington D.C. where I was going to meet a chap interested in buying the bicycle. I hoped he would come or it could be a nightmare trying to carry this enormous box across town onto trains and buses to make my way to Dulles Airport. I phoned him, I just got his voice mail, my spirit sunk, a few minutes later my cell rang, it was him, phew,we agreed to meet me in the street adjacent to the bus depot. He was a short Mongoloid looking fellow, I thought to myself "Oh no, this bike is going to be too big for him". He confirmed what accessories went with the bike and then started to assemble it very quickly, I began to get the feel that it wasn't for himself but for resale. Ten minutes later,the deal was done, my wallet fuller and 27 pounds lighter, I made my way through the maize of concourses to the Metro Station, where I was to catch a train and then a 5A bus to Washington D.C..
Hmmm, the platform I was to wait on was closed, we were now sharing a rail line with the opposite platform, I enquired with a tall pretty young blonde lady in boots and short skirt if I was at the right platform and which train to catch. She seemed to have the whole thing sown up as she ran her fingers over her smart phone, not only was she going to tell me which and where but also how long to wait. Another young chap with dark curly hair , glasses and a beard came over and asked "Did you say Dulles airport?" as he began shifting his fingers over his smart phone and advising accordingly.
I thought "Wow",these people are so helpful".
On reaching Dulles Airport I went over to the Air France counter who were partnering with KLM and Delta airlines and even though I flew in with Delta and not a lot was working on that plane,so much so they offered me a $50 voucher. I was reluctant to do business with them. I had dealings with them in the past in 2009 when we were in California and wanted to change our tickets for an earlier flight, they came up with a price of $800/ticket. I told them I could get a return at that price with another airline.
The Air France people told me that if I wanted to use the $50 voucher I would have to phone Delta to change the ticket. I spoke to a chap there who told me it would cost $300+ to change. I said "Thank you" and put the phone down. I called Air France, the lady on the other end said it would be $160 to change the flight from 2 December to the next day. I immediately gave her my debit card details and then strolled up and down the airport as it emptied of travellers and the cleaning squad came in to polish,sweep and gloss. One of the Hispanic cleaners asked if I was sleeping there tonight in her broken English and then gave me her bottled water. I hadn't slept much in 3 days , I found a corner, took out my sleeping bag, put my jacket over my head and closed my eyes. The next morning, I went into the family room (because it has a basin) and washed myself, my hair and brushed my teeth. I didn't have a fresh shirt and I wasn't going to smell of stale body odour the entire 7 hour flight so I took out my short sleeved shirt and washed it, then positioned it near the hand dryer, once it was slightly damp I put it on and went outside to catch some sun. Time went quickly and before I knew it we were boarding and on our way home, back to the easy comfortable life and my darling Karen. No more, sitting on a hard saddle, sleeping amongst crickets,deer,spiders and other creatures. No more wondering where I would sleep that night, no more at the mercy of passing trucks, cars and bikes. Whilst touring alone was hard and not really my bag it still had it's positives, such as being alone with God, who I began talking to more and more and trusting more and more. My health and fitness had improved, my faith in humanity increased as I encountered good Samaritans one after the other, almost as though they had orchestrated this queue just for me. They were a mix of all sorts of people and religions and I think they touched my heart more than I was able to touch theirs. Through all of this , I could not help but to see God in all of it.
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