It's 6:30am. I'm exhausted. I've had an hour of sleep - if I'm lucky. We're sitting at a Greyhound terminal right now, waiting for our next transfer. Andrew is sleeping peacefully, like we're not on a metal bench that's ripping my ass a new one.
The bus ride from Toronto to Ottawa, for lack of better words, sucked! We got stuck on a bus with a bunch of hooligans, on their way to Montreal for spring break (after all, the legal drinking age there is 18). In my last post, I mentioned our bus left Toronto at 12:45am. That's way past my bedtime. It's not past hooligan bedtime though.
Apparently, hooligans don't sleep. They spent the whole bus ride being loud and obnoxious. When they weren't speaking, they were playing music. I had my own headphones in to drown out most of the noise, but it didn't help much. Plus, the hooligan in front of me decided to push his seat back all the way, giving tiny little me no leg space. His response to me kicking his seat was a kiss of his teeth. Needless to say, he wouldn't budge.
So why didn't I just move seats? It was a sold out bus. Sold out by hooligans.
Andrew slept just fine though.
Now we wait till 9am for our bus to Montreal. Fortunately, we're going further into Montreal than the others, which means we're on a separate bus from the hooligans.
Man, I just want some sleep.
Or Tim Hortons. Whichever.