Buses: Part 7 (final)

Essay by spoonman419High School, 11th grade July 2004

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My cousin John had to leave Kansas City to work in Indianapolis for a few months and he had no connections for weed there. He Western Unioned me some money to buy an ounce and a bus ticket. When I picked up the money I started looking for weed immediately. By the time I had to leave for the bus station I was still waiting for my connection to show up. As I walked out the door he walked up to my house and told me his connection would be there in a few. I waited and surely enough he showed up and I naively handed my money over to the guy and he burned off with my cousin's hundred. The golden rule when it comes to drug deals, I've learned over the years, is never hand your money over before you receive a product. "Oh well" I thought, "It wasn't my money."

I got in the truck with my dad and we tore off to the bus station and I got there just in time.

I ran up to the counter in a hurry to buy my ticket only to be met with the classic bus station laid back easiness and confusion. Two people were in front of me, the first decided to strike up a friendly conversation with the cashier. I'm all up for friendliness, but this was a place of business, with transactions and people needing to make those transactions as fast as they can. I held my tongue. The next person in line was Mexican and barely knew English. On top of that, he couldn't find his wallet. I looked over my shoulder. The last in line was on the bus now, and they could have and probably should have left at any time. They didn't...