A one-handed man asked us if we knew what was going on. I gave him my phone so he could tell his family he would be late. How could we have missed it when we hadn’t left our island? Ruben, a young Amish man, approached. Another passenger, a university student from India, had been checking his app, which showed that the bus had been and gone. The sign on the empty Greyhound kiosk read: “As of 25 January 2023 – you will need photo ID to buy tickets.” Yet another barrier between those with little money, no fixed address, no car, no passport or credit card and their ability to travel.įive pm and still no bus. I looked around at my fellow island-dwellers: an elderly man with four large zip-up bags printed with “Patient Belongings” a couple travelling with a large fluffy blanket propped up against the Porta-Potti as a makeshift bed a mother and her teenage son carrying large cardboard boxes. My next bus was scheduled to leave for St Louis – a mere 530-mile trip – at 3.00pm. I guess this is what you get when you travel in a seat costing $35 as opposed to a $200 plane ticket or in a car with a full tank of gas. If you had commissioned an urban planner to design the most hostile, uncomfortable and unhealthy environment for passengers, this would be the result. A police van was parked at one end of the tunnel and armed policemen stood against a wall facing us. There was a chemical toilet, no drinking fountain, very few seats and no windows. Between the two bus lanes sat a small concrete island where passengers were disgorged. At both ends, electric doors opened and closed when a bus entered or exited. The bus station consisted of a parking garage the size of a small airplane hangar. My 20-minute stopover in Columbus was where a picture began to form of what Greyhound travel looks like today. The cashless society appears to be winning.įrom Detroit, I headed to St Louis, via Columbus, Ohio, where the Greyhound would hit Route 66. It became a leitmotif during my trip, and also spoke to something I saw repeatedly: the exclusion of those without smartphones or credit cards. This atomisation, and the reliance on tech for our most basic human needs, unnerved me. I would not meet another human during my stay. I handed over my debit card details to this San Francisco-based hospitality company and received a code with instructions to a room in a faceless building. My only option was to download an app by Sonder, which offered affordable Airbnb-style apartments with kitchens (thus saving me money on food). I was unable to find a clean, cheap hotel in the centre of town.
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