I Survived the Fung-Wah (More Like Dung-Wah) Bus to Boston

Four years ago, in mid-July, I felt myself getting progressively stir crazy within the confines of the city so a first time trip to Boston seemed like an inspired idea during the oppressively hot summer. Having moved from Texas just two years before, I had no concept of bus travel beyond the occasional luxury charter bus rides to and from fraternity lingerie parties and other terrible events I’d cinched my boobs together in a spandex vice, for. So when my friend Allison suggested taking the ol’ Fung Wah bus for a mere $15 dollars, I, of course, was thrilled.

I met Allison for an afternoon bus, and as I crossed the threshold of the waiting area, my heart sank. THESE are the people taking the bus? SHITBALLS. I promptly told myself to stop being so damn judgy and prepare myself for a restful trip. Think of it as a moving nap, Chinae. It’s only 4 hours, Chinae. You’re gonna catch up on some reading, Chinae. Maybe they have a bar area, Chinae.

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