How to survive a transport day when feeling miserable...

Once your alarm has succeeded in needlessly waking your entire dormroom along with you, mumble a lame appology before slipping out of your warm bed and into the freezing cold. Stuff all your scattered belongings into your already misshapen backpack. Skip the shower. You fell asleep with your clothes still on, so it'd be downright superfluous to change out of them at this ungodly hour. Fumble your way to the reception desk, hand in your key and demand your deposit back. On second thought, kindly request your deposit back. Demands rarely seem to have an effect on clerks on nightshift.

Make your way to the busdepot. Backpack hoisted on your back, small carry-on bag strapped to your front, grocery bag in each free hand. Take it in your stride and don't ponder the "why's" when the local hobo decides to high-five you now while he scolded you last night upon your leaving the club. Surrender your breakfast sandwich to him when he approaches too closely. And when the tight-arsed busdriver finally decides to open the door when the clock strikes departure-time, make your way to a front-corner seat and zonk out.

Always side with your fellow travellers when they decide to stage a mutiny following the driver's failure to launch the heating system, even if your feet have capitulated to the early stages of frostbite and the -2 celcius on the indoor thermometer warns you it'd be unwise to surface from underneath your 7 sweaters and sleeping bag. And when two more busdrivers board the vehicle in an attempt to figure out the heating system, fight the urge to smirk. Even when all three of them hold their hands in front of what clearly is a speakerbox (the silver BOSE tag being a big hint) and declare that "sawrry, thire's no heat coming out of ut". Just settle back into your little nest and let the token angry french woman deal with it.

When the bus reaches its final destination and you're tossed out on the cold tarmac in the middle of nowhere, ask directions from not one but three individuals for accurate triangulation of your future bed. Once found, head straight to the reception desk and fall arse over tit when trying to unload your 4-bag burden. Squeak a feable appology and ask for a "bid & shower please". You'll know you've survived your day of transport and have reached a safe transit home when the landlady comes in to check on you while you're napping, shuts the curtains for you and "shush"-es the other backpackers in your vincinity to grant you a few hours hard-earned kip.

- mundaneness of travellife -
(laundromat sessions, ready-steady-cook style meals,
getting confused in the 200-variety bread section at the supermarket,
making a mess of my own little private nest, luxury hostel lounge)