Greyhound Horror Story

I rarely bash anyone. I usually am pretty even minded about what I write so that no one feels like I have negative feelings about their service, but this last bus trip from Michigan was a trainwreck of no show drivers and disabled buses.

After an uneventful and very pleasant ride from Kentucky to Michigan I spent two fabulous weeks visiting my family.  The fun was contagious and so was the little cold germ that followed me home.

Saturday morning at 4 AM I arrive at the bus station in Escanaba only to hear, “The bus broke down and will not run today.  Come back tomorrow same time.”

After I assure the station master this is not possible he says we can put you on a bus to Detroit and you can pick up another bus there.  It sounds like a plan as Detroit is only 6 hours from home.

The buses of Indian Trails are nice and comfy, with WIFI and huge windows. All I needed for a comfortable trip down to the lower Peninsula of Michigan.  Crossing the Mackinaw Bride was an experience seeing the frozen Lake Michigan, completely iced over.  I broadcast the crossing live on Facebook.  It was a pleasant trip and I was enjoying myself. Everything changed in Detroit however.

I arrived in Detroit at 3: PM and immediately was given a ticket to Kentucky boarding at 10:30 PM. I could do the seven-hour layover.  I had no problems with that. So I found a totally uncomfortable section of chairs and sat, stood and sat again, paced, drank my soda and continued to sit for seven hours. There were other buses coming and going and people watching is pretty fun.

With one episode of a masher hitting on me ( read more about that tomorrow) and a fun hour-long conversation with a true friend to soothe my ruffled feathers, I was once again waiting for ten thirty.  The designated time comes and goes and nothing is spoken over the PA about the loading of the bus.

Eleven o’clock rolls around and they announce. “The bus to Cincinnati has been canceled come to the information booth to reschedule or get your refund.”


Did I hear that correctly?  I must have because in one moment the line formed at the information desk and I scrambled to get my place in it.  Fifteen minutes later I reach the front of the line and am told I can get a refund of the remaining portion of my trip or the can get me on a noon tomorrow bus. I decided I have no way home so I agree with the ticket home option. The ticket prints and I go back to my spot in the waiting area. There is nowhere else to go. I will spend the night in the station it seems along with my other trapped travelers.

I begin to look at my ticket and it dawns on me that I have another filled day of travel ahead of me tomorrow to make it the 300 miles home.  There is a four-hour layover in Dayton Ohio and then another six-hour delay in Cincinnati. I am getting later and later on my arrival home. From the scheduled 6:30 am arrival I was now looking at 11:00 PM.

I called in the cavalry. I called my daughter and told her what was going on. She called me back within the hour and said, we’re coming to get you.  Angie to the rescue!

For the next six hours, I spent with my fellow travelers. All four others that shared the lobby of the Detroit bus Terminal that cold night.  With the security guard watching over us we laughed, chatted, and got to know one another. All in all that part was great.


Almost six hours later my ride arrived. Kristian and Angie galloped in and swooped me up where we went to an old fashioned diner and had the best buttermilk pancakes ever. It was quite the night and quite the trip home. It was a fun trip home all in all. Even with the bad service from Greyhound.  Even with my annoyance, I was pleasantly surprised by how nice everyone was while rescheduling and protecting us. Everyone I met was nice, I was just disappointed with the outcome.

My fellow travelers made it to their destinations a little late and a lot tired, but they made it home. One of the travelers had his morning rescheduled bus cancel yet again. He was 24 hours later getting home to Georgia.

All that was missing was the zombies in this Greyhound horror story.  They seemed to have called in like the drivers. I think it is time for a Greyhound Job Fair.