The Return of the Kishpike

August 1st, 2011

I know what you're thinking, you're thinking "What happened there Kishpike? One day you were telling silly stories about getting lost in Italy, and then suddenly no more Diary entries? Where have you been? What have you been doing?"
So Freaking much.
Towards the end of my Spanish adventure I was so busy between teaching/directing a theatre class, my own studies, drinking & eating, preparing/working in an international theatre convention, and getting into trouble with ladies that I really just didn't get around to uploading any photos, or blogging.

After that I returned home, where I was washed over with a culture shock of boredom.
For the month or so that I was home, I really didn't do anything much exciting.
Swing Dancing, a brief journey to Coeur d'alene, a lot of Fall Out: New Vegas, and a little bit of work.

Where am I now?
New Jersey!
Why?
Because I'm a young director who wants to be where the theatre people are.
I have scored a "day-job" working as a Box Office Associate in The Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey. My goal? Put together a theatre company aimed at socially engaged theatre.
Pipe dream?
Maybe, but that's what I've got to try for.
So I am.
But enough of the boring stuff.
On to the crazy stories.

72 Hour Bus ride.
10:30 AM I board a bus to Boise.
Everything goes nicely, except for the "Chili-Burger" I order in some trucker stop.
This chili, I'm fairly certain, was made from old truck tires.
SIX. HOUR. LAYOVER. Boise.
So I think to myself, "Hey you! Layover's suck!"
From that point on my trip becomes a giant blur.
Every bus I got on after that was anywhere from 40 to 80 minutes late.
All of my "layovers" became "run-over-to-the-next-buses."
I didn't miss one bus though, so that was good.
Somewhere on the second day of traveling, during the night bus, I had the good fortune of sitting in front an interesting fellow.
This fellow had the voice of a 70 year old, the blond hair of a 40 year old, and the mentality of a six year old. I swear someone replaced his mouth with a puttery old motorcycle, because it just kept on chugging along, on and on and on, with the same rise and fall like a somewhat unreliable machine.
The things this fellow was saying? Anywhere between inane and violent, mostly childlike, but it wasn't speech so much to communicate as it was to talk. And he just kept talking, and talking, and talking...
And my Mp3 player was on the fritz.
So I made use of my Laptop.
When he finally got off my bus I thought, "Finally, I'll be able to rest in silence."
...
NOPE!
...
My next bus(es) for the next 24 hours would have the most, forgive the inappropriate use of a serious mental struggle, but as I was saying, the most Bi-polar relationship to ever be shouted at one another for 24 hours on a greyhound bus.
A rather large woman that rather resembled a mildly deflated eggplant and her string-bean scraggly chin fuzz boyfriend (Big words coming from a wire-of-a-weasel-kishpike, but this guy made me look like a bodybuilding cold-war Russian in full beard.)
This "couple" spent the entirety of 24 hours yelling at each-other.
Snapping, fighting, and shouting.
Not a soul said a word.
I contemplated it, but the last thing I wanted was their Ire to be turned on me.
I'm sure I wasn't the only one.
I think there may have even been physical violence.
I don't know.
What I do know is that these people had no care for their fellow passengers, at all.
The fighting could be boiled down to a few simple observations.
The "couple" was not exclusive, and not gracefully so.
The female seemed to be in multiple relationships, yet incredibly insecure about the male's friend (who happened to be female.) The female was insistent about picking fights about the tinniest detail, so that once within the fight, she could reveal her true insecurities. (Boiled further down, she doubted this person who she constantly threatened to hit truly loved her.)
The male, was too busy arguing and standing his ground to realize the female's tactic, and when she would reveal her insecurity, he did not pick up on it, but rather continued arguing the original point. (Hardly blamable, if not rather stupid in his word choice. She seemed to make the revelation an argument in itself. )
The breakdown in communication was amusing for the first 5 hours.
So at some point in the 24 hour hell, I began futzing with my Mp3 player.
An hour later I was sleeping while Blue October, stuck on repeat, sang all the songs I loaded up for the journey.
To be honest I could have slept to my System of a Down music or really anything at that point that wasn't rednecks yelling at each other.

After that little incident my travels were calm for however long I had left.
I think I ate too much truck-stop & Mcdonald's food.
Way too much.
But I did drink a pants-ton of water, so I'm feeling pretty good.

No telling if I keep this blog up, but it seemed actually kind of popular (weird), so we'll see what happens.


Until next time!
Agur!