Bus Ride (journal)

Time passed, unnoticed, outside the blurry confines of my mind. Rhythmic rattling of the window against my head lulled me in and out of sleep as the mammoth conveyance traversed the endless asphalt surfaces of the New Jersey highway system.

A frustrated sigh and rattle of flapping lips counterpointed the sudden scratching of pen against paper, as the writer scratched out the previous two lines in her journal. Then, after a few moments of reflection, re-wrote them.

Was it only five hours ago that I stormed out of the office? Three since I got on this thrice-bedamned bus? I check my watch, but I realize I didn't even pay attention when each of these events happened. The hypnotic hum of the road beneath the Greyhound's tires was more than I could bear for a while, and I know I dozed off. Of course, dozing on public transportation has not been a habit of mine, but then, the day's events have been more strenuous than a lot of things in the past few years.

In high school, I usually wore black. So when the new fashion line called "Gothic-ah" came on the market shortly after graduation, I decided to parlay some of my savings into purchasing one of the designs. I chose a rather chic black top, almost a cross between a t-shirt and a teddy, with matching gloves.

So after my original investment in something a little less concrete than real estate - as fickle an economic partner it is - I received a thin, wide box from FedEx. Adorned with small black icons of fashionable articles of clothing, and the silver-engraved name of "Gothic-ah," at first I was tempted to introduce Mr. Package to Ms. Circular File.

I tore open the package, surprised I'd received anything - but then, when one spends more than eight thousand dollars on basically nothing - one tends to expect results. Inside I discovered a bound book of patterns, as well as what was termed the "original prototype" of the article. A long letter in legalese was stuffed into an envelope on the side. Apparently, buying the design gave me full rights to do with it what I wished - including eventually selling it back to Gothic-ah.

Years later I just happened to be taking stock of my portfolio, and left a lot of the paperwork laying about in my room. The letter from Gothic-ah Corporate, a folder of securities reports, a bunch more things I can't even remember because of the following events.

I hadn't expected my mother to take umbrage with my foray into the realm of financial independence... "Isn't my portfolio good enough for both of us," she screeched, as she found one of the letters on my computer desk.

She of all people should recognize the wisdom of diversification... The potential of a fresh point of view, one more learned with the newer bits of technology and news far outweighed the steady plod of long term bonds or indiscriminate mutual funds.

Of course, my calmness only infuriated her more... I still haven't been able to figure out why she was so charged up - eventually she slapped me, calling me an ungrateful bitch of a daughter with no respect for her mother or the sacrifices she's made.

She stormed out.

I turned, began piling my paperwork into a box. Pulled out a duffel bag, stuffed it with clothes and basic toiletries. Boxed up my laptop, found my stuffed raccoon, my address book and cell phone got tossed into my purse.

I strapped the boxes to the back of my bike with a bungee, slipped the duffel strap behind my neck and under my arms, and swung onto the seat.

I tried to recall if anyone I might still be friendly with still lived in town, but realized that most had moved on, and I was one of the few to stay behind.

I found myself at the FedEx depot after riding aimlessly for an hour. The clock outside the door read 7:55... And the hours posted indicated they closed at eight. I unstrapped my stuff, took it inside, and with the aid of my address book, created labels for the packages to ship to my lawyer. I scribbled a quick note - "I'll send for these. Rachyl." - and shipped them off.

Rode a little bit more and found myself at the bus station... None to New York, Philly, or Washington... Baltimore was expensive... Boston insane... Nachton not so much.

It was then, my ass parked on the bench at the terminal, with just about all my worldly possessions arrayed around me, that I saw the billboard...

"Fashion Show, Presenting Gothic-ah, Angel*Noir, and others! May 30th, Nachton."

I strode to the ticket counter and bought my ticket.