the bus

The lights in the back of the bus are dimmed as the night creeps over us and I’ve just gotten myself comfortable in the very back, my blanket tightly wrapped around me and my legs curled up in the seat. I pull my hoodie over my wild hair and lean my head against the window, feeling the engine roar below me as we drive toward to the border. I’m driving home for Christmas.

I’ve just dozed off when the express bus suddenly slows down and comes to a halt. The driver announces something I can’t quite make out as I’m pulled back out from dreamland, and the bright lights from the ceiling sting my eyes as they try to adjust. A man and woman walk onto the bus through the front door and briefly exchange a few words with the driver, then part ways, dividing the bus front to back speaking to everyone on board. I lean back into my seat and sigh, annoyed by this inconvenient interruption of slumber.

Eventually, the woman arrives in front of my seat and asks what I’m doing on the bus. I thought my intentions would be fairly evident, but I humour her by answering her questions in my raspy morning voice. “I’m going home for Christmas. What I packed? Yeah, I did pack my own bags. Just clothes, and some presents I guess. Cash? Not much, let me see…” I dive into my tote, my hands feeling around for my wallet. As I reach into it, and grab the few bills I have in there to show her, my heart skips a beat very quietly as I realise I’ve forgotten something. I can feel the beats escalating now that it’s caught up and my breathing suddenly changing pace while I try to keep my voice steady answering her follow ups. “Yeah, just two weeks. I …have …a return ticket. It’s on my laptop.”

Suddenly she seems very suspicious, and I’m finding it hard to look her in the eyes but I do my best. She locks eyes with me and we silently stare at each other while she decides. “Alright, have a good night.” she says and hands me my cash. I grab the bills and tuck them back into my wallet quickly, not taking my eyes off her back as she walks back to the front of the bus. I sigh, this time with relief. They exchange words with the driver again, and walk off the bus, doors closing behind them. I realise I’ve shifted to the edge of my seat, my leg slightly trembling. Okay good. The engine murmurs as the driver starts the bus once again. We’re driving and…taking a u-turn?

A small garage-looking building in front of us, the door slowly rolling up to reveal the bright lit space behind it. I try to make out what’s happening from the backseat of the bus, silently cursing myself for choosing to be a cool kid just now. I see silhouettes appearing inside the room, all in black uniforms and hats. Then I see dogs on leashes, eagerly anticipating the events to follow. Fudge, goshdarnitalltohell, sorry. Fuck.

My back is pushing against my seat, I’m trying to find some way to disappear and never be seen again, but as the bus pulls into the warehouse I can both see and hear the rattling door closing behind us. I’m trying to think. What am I going to do? Is there some way to get out of this? It feels like hours have passed while I try to make sense of my scrambling thoughts when the driver announces that all passengers are to leave the bus with all their belongs in hand. I frantically start collecting my things from the floor, and as I grab my tote bag I quickly open my hemp wallet (what irony) again, fishing out the small lump wrapped in cellophane and squeezing it tightly in my hand. I get up, and start making my way to the front. Midway I’m stuck behind a portly little man, still trying to gather his things, and my eyes drift down to the small trash bins on the side of each seat section. I dip down every so slightly and make the drop. I immediately regret it, but the crowd has started moving again so I move with them in silent panic.

As I step off the bus, my knees close to giving out, I read the giant sign ahead. TULL / TOLL. “Yeah, this is tull (bullshit)!” I hear from somewhere in the sleepy crowd, and I can’t help but smile a very tiny smile as we’re shuffled along to a separate room inside the warehouse. Eager dogs pulling their handlers pass me, and I stuff my hand into my pockets nervously. We’re told to sit on the floor to await our turns having people search through our belongings, and I trot over to the wall and slide down with my back against it. Shit, I mutter under my breath. “I know, right?” says a woman in her 40’s with a giant pink suitcase.

I try to think of things to say. But I can’t think of anything that would be plausible despite it being true. “I simply forgot it was there!” “I’m pretty sure you can tell it’s really old.” “Aaaactually, I brought this over the border once before, I just didn’t know. That should count for something, right?” “Isn’t it like… below the limit or whatever?”

Then we wait. We wait for what seems like hours, though I’m sure it wasn’t. I’m finally called, and I bring my flimsy bag and tote over to a uniform who has no questions for me, he only wants to look through my undies. That’s fine with me. Eventually it seems we’ve all been searched and they tell us to gather up and get in line. We start moving back into the bus and I try to look at any person I can to figure out when they’ll stop messing around and pull me back out from the crowd. But they don’t. I’m back on the bus, and this time I sit in a double seat closer to the middle, right about where I made my drop. Another daring choice, I guess.

As the final few are boarded, the keys turn once again and the engine rumbles below us. The door slowly creeps back up to reveal early dawn as we back out of the warehouse and turn back onto route. I hear a couple of friends a few seats over talk about how we’re missing a passenger now, apparently someone had reported him to the border patrol before we were pulled over.

Well, aren’t I in luck, I thought, before drifting back off to sleep.