More people came. People stared. I stared back. My legs cramped. Kids cried. The sun set. More people stared and I silently cried, "Hallelujah!" as I heard my bus being called. I was on the road again.So there I was in Denver with a nine hour layover. Having missed the first bus of my journey in Galveston, Texas, the connections were shot. I shopped for awhile downtown, but didn't want to spend all of the $60 I had left to make it to Montana. I returned to the bus station.
It was nice and warm inside, but I still had five hours to wait. I read the newspaper. I watched people filter in and out. Having heard horror stories about the types of people who frequent bus stations, I was a little apprehensive.
I laid my feet over the chair beside me where I had placed my belongings. A strange man started talking to me. And talking to me. Custodians swept around me. People came and people left. I read every sign.
More people came. People stared. I stared back. My legs cramped. Kids cried. The sun set. More people stared and I silently cried, "Hallelujah!" as I heard my bus being called. I was on the road again.