The Saga of Warrior Bus Line
[The Perils of Pennsic]
This is a harrowing true-life story of how *not* to get to
Pennsic. It's being written almost seven years after the fact,
though, so recollections may be somewhat less than entirely
accurate. I did start keeping a log of our adventures about halfway
through the journey. The bits in brackets are extracts from this
original log.
I decided to go to Pennsic in 1985. I had heard all my
friends talking about what a great time they had had last year, and
all the stuff that they were going to do this year (the Were-Kittens
conspiring against the leaders of GRAPE, etc.) Step one - convince
the parents. Tricky, but manageable. Step two - get a tent. Justin
just got a bigger tent, and was planning on using his old, small tent
for storage, but he says I can use it instead.
Now the tricky bit - finding a ride. I start asking around, I
post a message in the Miniscule, etc. I get several responses of the
nature "Well, we don't really have the room, but if you can't find
*anyone* else, we'll squeeze you in somehow."
Eowyn publishes, in the Miniscule, an ad for an outfit called
"Warrior Bus Lines". Apparently, some entrepeneur had decided that
there were enough people who wanted to travel long distances to
events, but who didn't want to drive themselves, that there was a
market for an SCA bus service. His inaugural voyage was to be from
Boston to Pennsic, leaving from Boston Common on Teusday, August
13th, 4:00PM. I had my heart set on getting there for the weekend
before the war, so I kept looking.
At last, I found someone willing to give me a ride, Danulf
Donaldsson, then known as "Bunnycrusher". He had gained this
sobriquet due to the outcome of a disagreement between his truck and
a VW Rabbit. I had been a passenger of his before, and was a bit
dubious about the safety of traveling 600 miles with him driving. He
had a habit of doing things like, when realizing he was going the
wrong way, making 270 degree turns across several lanes of traffic
correct the matter. But I saw no better option, so I accepted. We
planned to leave on the night of Friday the 9th, drive through the
night, and arrive by Saturday noon.
Interestingly enough, my parents left on *their* week-long
vacation on the afternoon of the 9th, and were thus unavailable for
aid during the ensuing events.
[Fri 8/9 7:30 Dana calls - Can we leave Sat. morning c.
10:00? I say OK - his decision.]
Actually, I was very displeased with this turn of events (I
was *very* eager to get to Pennsic), but as Dana was driving, I had
no real veto power, so I grudgingly acceeded.
So, it gets to be 10:00, and Dana hasn't shown up. And it
gets to be 10:30 and Dana hasn't shown up. And it gets to be 11:00
and Dana hasn't shown up. And it gets to be 11:30 and Dana hasn't
shown up. At noon, the phone rings. I hear "Hi Alex" in a mournful,
dirge-like voice. "Hi Dana. Where are you?"
[Sat 8/10 12:00 Dana calls - Has just walked two miles from
point where his car died.]
Dana suggests trying to find alternate routes while he
investigates whether his car can be repaired in time to get to
Pennsic. Astute readers will notice that this is the point at which,
according to the original plan, I would be arriving at Pennsic.
[12:20 I call everyone else who is going. The last of them
to leave has just left.]
"Nope, just missed 'em." "I'm sorry, she *just* left."
[Later - Dana uncertain about fate of his car. He suggests
possible rides + WBL. No one is reachable.]
[Sun 8/11 c. 1:00 Dana calls - Car is *many $100* dead. No
chance of ride.]
At this point, it becomes clear that Warrior Bus Lines is my
only remaining option to get to Pennsic. The major problem here is
that the bus is leaving from Boston Common, and I'm still living at
my parent's house in Worcester, with no car of my own. So I have to
get myself plus a large pile of luggage to Boston Common somehow.
[Sun night - Mon day I call friends for ride to Boston to get
WBL. All who have cars are busy. Limos and taxis are c.$50. The
phone at Trailways is busy all day.]
All my old friends from high school were still without
licenses, and, strangely enough, none of their parents were too keen
on the idea of taking a half day off of work to get me into Boston.
Having no clue as to the economics involved, I investigated a variety
of options. The sensible one seems to be taxi -> bus station, bus ->
Boston, taxi -> Common.
Now, I just need to make sure that there is space on the bus.
[Mon 8/12 5:30 I start calling WBL. No answer.]
I continue to call at 30 minute intervals throughout the
evening.
[10:00 WBL is busy. 10:20 I get thru. Space is available.
Bus is leaving at 6:00 (another delay?)]
[Teu 8/13 3:40 I call Arrow Taxi to get to Trailways for 4:15
Boston bus.]
The taxi arrives shortly thereafter, but the driver tells me
that I was lucky that he was in the neighborhood, and should really
have allowed more time in order to ensure catching the bus.
[4:05 Arrive Trailways.]
The bus hasn't actually arrived yet, so I breathe a sigh of
relief.
[4:15 Bus arrives. Other person w/luggage. has chest,
bag, polearms?]
While loading my stuff on the bus, I noticed someone next to
me who was loading on a chest, and a large green canvas bag with
poles sticking out of it (tent poles, not polearms, I was still
pretty green back then). He was also wearing an unusually large
amount of leather, including armguards. I looked at him, and he
looked at me. I said "Would you by any chance be on your way to
Pennsic?" "Why yes! I am!" "And would you perchance be going via
Warrior Bus Lines?" "I am indeed!"
[Turns out to be "Bela the Mad" of Quintavia (Worc.) We talk
on way, agree to get taxi together to common.]
Bela was quite a character. He was slightly intimidating,
but he was a fellow SCAdian, and I was glad for his company, having
never before been on an adventure of quite this scale. He showed me
pictures of a castle he had visited recently, somewhere in New
England (I forget where). We fell to chatting about one thing and
another, but there were two things he mentioned that particularly
stuck in my mind. Firstly, that in his "mundane" life, he was a
transvestite, and secondly, that one of the ways he planned on being
"period" during the war was by using perfume in lieu of bathing.
[5:15 Arrive Boston. Start trying to find taxi. 5:30 Find
taxi. Driver doesn't speak english.]
After a lot of hand-waving, we communicate to him that we are
in fact going to Boston Common. No, not somewhere *near* the Common,
but the Common itself. By a minor miracle, all our gear fits in the
trunk of the taxi, albeit with *no* room to spare.
[5:50 Arrive common. No bus in sight.]
Well, not quite accurate. There were plenty of buses in
sight, but none of them looked particularly like they were the one we
wanted. I guarded our stuff, while Bela went out looking for the
bus.
[6:20 Bela finds Eowyn + Adian, also waiting.]
We combined our mutual piles of gear so that we could send
three of us at a time out on search parties. We ask passers-by if
they know anything about our bus.
[Hot dog man says someone already came by who said bus blew
piston (gleep!)]
Luckily (perhaps), the bus which blew a piston and got towed
away turned out to not have anything to do with us. Except perhap as
an omen of things to come...
Finally, after nearly an hour of searching for the bus, we
find... a van.
[6:40 Van comes by to pick us up. The bus has *not* blown a
piston, but it needs some work and needs to be inspected. We will
meet them in N.H. c. 9:00. Stop on way to pick up pizzas.]
The astute among you will note that New Hampshire is north of
Boston, and not exactly the correct direction to get to Pennsic.
Foreshadowing: The four of us and our gear piled into the back of
this van constituted the most comfortable travel any of us would
experience for the next several days.
We drove back to Jan's place with the van and hung out in her
attic room while waiting for Matt Lemos (the mind behind WBL) and his
young friend Matt (referred to for convenience as Little Matt)
returned with the bus.
[11:00 No sign of bus. We break out mattresses + go to
bed.]
[c.11:30 They show up. Bus has *not* been inspected, they
decide to deal with it in morning.]
I don't remember the details of this bit too coherently, as I
was mostly asleep at the time.
[Wed 8/14 7:00 Rise + shine, start loading bus.]
Matt and company have prepared a stencil so that we can
spray-paint "The Warrior" on the back and sides of the bus in Gothic
lettering. We discuss christening the bus, but in the hustle and
bustle of packing, it got forgotten. For the moment...
The bus itself was rather a disappointment. I had been
expecting a greyhound-like affair, but this appeared to be an old,
rather beaten-up city bus. Moreover, the seats were not only not
padded or adjustable, they were of the solid plastic variety that one
suspects was designed by civil servants with a strong sadistic
streak, or possibly by aliens with a differently-shaped sitting
mechanism than humans. Oh well, we were only going to be sitting in
them for 14 hours or so...
[8:00 We leave for inspector. Send van ahead for donuts.
8:10 Arrive inspector. Registration for bus is in van. With 10
days till deadline - fuck inspection!]
Matt had ten days from date of purchase to get the bus
inspected, so decided to do it after Pennsic. This decision was
partially motivated by the fact that the bus wasn't going to *pass*
inspection, due to a small crack in the windshield, and after all
these delays, we really didn't feel like looking for a glazier. We
were a wee bit disturbed to realise that Matt had just bought this
bus the previous day, which is why it needed to be inspected.
[But we need registration + hurry to Dunkin Donuts.]
The Dunkin Donuts parking lot was a somewhat harrowing
experience. It quickly became clear that, not only was this bus new
to Matt, but that *driving* a bus was new to Matt.
[Misc. travel - we forgot to christen the Warrior.]
We realized this about now, but didn't want to stop to do
anything about it. As it was, we still had to stop at Little Matt's
house to pick up his tent. When it was extracted from his parent's
garage, it was found to be mildewed to the point where it had to be
aired out for a while before we could take it on the bus without
smothering all of us from the stench. But what's another delay? At
last, we hit the open road somewhat north of Worcester. Before long,
we were actually closer to Pennsic than when I had started all this
foofarah, several days ago.
[12:00 After passing thru Worc. we find bus won't top 45 MPH.
radar detector (Ha, ha!)]
Mind you, that figure was going downhill. With a tail wind,
we sometimes approached 50.
[Head for truck stop to call + find out what's up. Scrape
truck on way in.]
Parking a bus between two trucks turns out to be a
non-trivial maneuver. No serious damage seemed to be done to either
vehicle, so we decided to just ignore it, while Matt went to call the
"little Japanese guys" that sold him the bus.
[12:20 Oil is leaking out back, was overfilled.]
Matt returned, with an explanation for why the bus is so slow.
[12:30 Bus used to be school bus. A governor keeps bus in
second gear.]
Apparently this is to make sure all those maniacal school
bus drivers keep under the speed limit.
[Ten minute repair job, but truck stop can't do it. We
decide to go on. 1:00 Now. Still haven't found a place to remove
regulator. I wonder if Fenmere has given me up for lost. If all
goes well from here, I'll only be 100 hrs. late.]
It was at this point that I realized two things: Firstly,
the only way this trip was going to be worth having undergone was if
I could get a good story out of it, and secondly, that the story was
gaining enough details that I might have trouble remembering it. So,
I started keeping a log.
[1:25 Arrive Goodhall's Garage. Conn. Wait for mechanic.]
This was some large truck mechanic located on the highway. It
took us a while to get their attention to look at the bus.
[1:50 Mechanic ready. Bus only has 1 gear]
My memory disagrees slightly with the log here. I seem to
recall that he said that the bus did in fact have two gears - but
only two. "Y'aint got no regulator here. Problem here is, y'aint got
no *third gear* This bus ain't gonna go any faster than it has
less'n you get a different engine in there."
[- did bus company lie to Lemos + co.? They (m's) say bus
won't do much more than 45.]
Matt makes another call to the folks who sold him the bus, and
then makes a call to his lawyers.
[2:05 Bus company lied - we commence crawling to Pennsic
after having sworn vengeance.]
[3:15 Hartford - bad traffic - Matt having nervous breakdown.
Trouble getting on to right lanes.]
Any one who has ever been in Hartford during rush hour will
appreciate the gravity of the situation. It seems that every lane
turns into either a right or left exit within a few hundred yards,
but everyone is in so much of a hurry that it's quite difficult to
change lanes and avoid those exits. Now, just imagine doing this in
a bus. A bus with no considerably pick-up, either. Matt is asking
Jesus what he has done to deserve this.
[4:25 Matt stopped to call bus company + lawyers. 4:40 We
leave again 4:55 Lost in New Haven. Several stops to let peole
by.]
We tried to take a sort of a back highway as a shortcut, and
traffic avoidance maneuver. Even with very light traffic, however,
we still had to pull over every ten minutes or so, to let the dozen
cars which had piled up angrily behind us pass.
About 6, we started looking for gas and directions. We saw a
gas station across the street, so Matt pulled the bus around...
[6:20 Crash at Hilario's]
...and neatly broadsided the gas station tow truck
CRRRRUNCH! Large dent in the side of the bus, and the corner of the
tow truck looks rather mangled. The owner of the station calls the
police.
[- Will Matt's sanity hold? I hope so, but.....]
Matt was now calling on Jesus, Mary *and* Joseph, and banging
his head against the steering wheel quite furiously. In the back of
the bus, the menfolk gather to discuss mutiny.
[6:22 We may be able to continue w/alternate driver, but
Matt has completely lost it... Police arrive.]
"Can you drive a bus?" "No, can you?" "Well, let me put it
this way, do you think I could do a *worse* job of it than Matt?"
"Well, when you put it that way..." When the police arrive, Bela
quickly hides his pipe. None of us asked him what he was smoking.
Meanwhile, the police ask Matt for his insurance information.
Matt explains that he is from New Hampshire. this exchange is
repeated several times before communication occurs. New Hampshire is
one of the few states that does not require vehicle owners to carry
insurance, and Matt, in fact, does not. Somehow, the matter is
(eventually) settled.
[7:20 Police gone. Matt seems calmed down.]
[7:25 Take off - Matt driving - cross fingers - mood is
lightened by talk of sueing b. c. + making them pay for Pennsic.
7:40 Stop for gas^H^H^H transmission fluid. Is none there. Pull
out 8:00. 9:50 After several gas stations we are headed towards a
truck stop for the fluid + dinner.]
[10:35 Arrive truck stop.]
This was a *big* truck stop in New York. The kind that deals
with hundreds of truckers going through on a daily basis.
[My nerves are going - will try to sleep once we leave.]
We get the various fluid levels topped off, and decide to go
get dinner. Of course, before we get dinner, we have to park the bus
between some trucks...
[11:30 Harrowing parking job, but well done.]
Well done in a relative sense at least. We didn't actually
hit anything. Mind you, we did come inside of an inch of doing so. I
was sitting at that window.
[Others get food, Matt + I grab z's.]
Not very many z's, though. Remember, this bus has chairs
that are uncomfortable to *sit* in for more than 5 minutes.
Attempting sleep upon them was a rather laughable effort.
The others get back from dinner. Eowyn returns to the bus and
her sewing, while Matt and his lady head off to get dinner (and Matt
calmed down some). Aidian, Bela, Little Matt and I stretch our legs
outside. Some beer cans were passed around, and we were all pretty
punchy to begin with. It occurred to us that perhaps all our
misfortunes were due to the fact that we had never christened the
bus. We decided to rectify this oversight, but somehow, we could no
longer see ourselves calling this bus "The Warrior". Several options
were discussed, though I don't recall what we eventually settled on.
I think it was either "The Wimp", or "The Walter Mitty (the bus with
delusions of competence)". Whichever it was, we agreed to it, and
broke a ceremonial beer can over it's brow. Not that it's easy to
break a beer can on a bus, but no one was going to notice another
small dent or two.
We fell to discussing whether we should continue or try to
turn back.
[12:30 Mutiny planned. Either a non-Matt drives or we take
5 hours for sleep. Matt + Jan are off somewhere.]
When they got back, they had independently decided to crash
here for the night, so we never carried off the mutiny.
[1:30 Sleep.]
"Sleep" is really an inadequate word to describe the torpid,
painful, dormancy we managed under the circumstances. There was one
cot bed, but it was clear that our driver should get that. Bela and
Little Matt cleverly slept in the aisle, which at least was flat, but
there was only room for two there.
[Thu 8/15 6:00 Dawn + slow awakening.]
Another drawback to sleeping in a bus is that there are no
curtains. given that we weren't all that much asleep to begin with,
when the sun got up, so did we.
[7:20 Moving again. 250 done - 350 to go. 8:20 Almost to
PA. - Short break to check trans. fluid.]
Our transmission had a leak in it somewhere. We had to add
fluid quite frequently. Between that and the engine overheating, it
was a very stop-and-go kind of day, as the log extracts will show
(until I got tired of noting every single pit stop).
[8:40 PA. We're in the right state anyways. 9:50 Check +
cooling break.]
Matt called his lawyers again during this break.
[10:15 Lawyer's have a case - we pull out. 11:00 Traffic
slow - road construction. 11:30 Rest break - 11:50 12:50
Susquehanna 1:00 Pit stop - 1:30 2:40 Trans. check. 4:40-4:50
Rest stop 5:40-5:50 Gas stop]
[6:25 Coolant stop - bones discovered - 6:40]
This was a particularly interesting stop. I was stretching
my legs by the side of the highway, walking over the wide gravel
expanse. I happened to glance down at my feet, and there, embedded
in the gravel, but exposed by erosion, was a skeletal human hand. I
called the others over to look at it. About then, a State Trooper
pulled up, who wanted to see if we were having any trouble (being
stopped by the side of the road and all). We explained that we were
just letting the engine cool off, but I took the opportunity to point
out the hand to him. He agreed that it did indeed appear to be
human. I have no idea what happened from there; for all I know, I
may have been instrumental in the apprehension of a notorious serial
killer. or not.
[8:50 Fluid check]
Shortly after this, we intercepted the annual "Act of God",
which was a hurricane this year. Driving rain, just to add to our
driving pleasure.
[10:25 (many stops) 25 miles to go. I think Matt will make
it. (cross fingers) 10:50 Almost there, stop to check oil.]
About 11:15 at night, we crested a hill. Stretched out
before us was a plain covered with literally hundreds of torches and
campfires. We had made it! If the bus died now, we could *walk*
(and would)! The feeling of relief and accomplishment is almost
indescribable. I was finally there, only 5 1/2 days late, but still
in time for the War itself.
[11:30 Arrival]
Of course, it took us a while to get in. We had to cross a
very small bridge, but it proved to have no trouble holding the
weight of the bus. Then we got to the troll booth. They wanted to
hurry us through, and suggested that one person give them the money
for all of us, and we settle it between ourselves later. We did not
like this idea (as at that point, we pretty much never wanted to see
each other ever again), and hashed it out then, in cash. They then
said that although the rain had slackened to a light drizzle, this
was just the eye of the hurricane, and it would soon be back in
force. They suggested that we spend the night in our warm, dry bus.
We responded (unsurprisingly) "NO!!!".
I grabbed enough gear to set up for the night, and headed out,
following Eowyn, on the theory that she knew where she was going.
Near the barn, we ran into Susan MacGregor, who pointed us towards
the Carolingian encampment, down the road behind the Sated Tyger. We
sloshed off in that direction. Eowyn saw some friends of hers and
went off with them. At about the same time, I saw a few familiar
faces, huddled beneath a raincoat.
[12:00 Find Jan + 'stotle]
"Alex? Where have you been?" "You *don't* want to know."
They pointed me towards Justin's tent, with his smaller one
set up beside it. As I'd expected, it was full of Justin's junk, but
not so much that I couldn't push it aside to make room for me. I
laid down my bed roll, closed the door, and went to sleep. At least,
that's what I thought I did. As it turned out, I had not closed the
door, but only the screen door.
[12:40 Go to bed - don't close tent properly - rain! Fri
8/16 6:00 Woke up wet.]
You might think that it would be difficult to sleep through a
thunderstorm pouring rain through the door of one's tent. After the
previous 48 hours, though, I think I could have slept through the
Apocalypse. Of course, once the initial bout of sleep was over, the
light of dawn combined with the wetness to wake me.
I rose and stared out through the morning fog. Just visible
through the whiteness were the spits where the Sated Tyger was
roasting the meat for breakfast. Through Hell and High Water, I was
at Pennsic.
The fog eventually burned off, and the sun warmed people's
tents until they all began emerging at about 8:00. Justin looked at
me in utter amazement. He had indeed, long since given me up for
lost. Back then, he didn't know how stubborn I can get in a crisis
:-) Everyone wanted to know where I'd been, so I pulled out my log,
and told them.
I will pass briefly over my experiences at Pennsic itself.
Suffice to say that I had a marvelous time, and did not regret coming
(though naturally, I did somewhat regret the *manner* of my coming).
I did have some trouble finding Matt & co. later to retrieve the rest
of my gear, but that was dealt with eventually.
The only tricky bit now was going to be getting home again.
It was clear to all concerned that Warrior Bus Lines was *not* going
to be making the return trip. In fact, I hear tell that the bus
itself had to be towed off of the site in the end. Eowyn and Aidian
both made arrangements to fly back, but my budget had already been
rather strained by this journey.
I eventually found a Quintavian gentleman working at the
Cheshire Inn who had room in his truck. We arranged to meet first
thing Monday morning to head back. I was there bright and early, but
he got dragooned into helping break down the Cheshire, so we wouldn't
be able to leave for some time. By this time, I was getting rather
blase about travel delays, so I just went into the barn and played
video games for several hours.
At about 4:00 in the afternoon, we finally left. The return
trip was *much* smoother than the one out. My ride was both fast and
competent, and dropped me at my door in Worcester at 3:00 AM. 11
hours travel time, including a 30 minute break for a nap in the
middle. I piled my gear on my front porch, stumbled upstairs, and
crawled into bed, where I slept the sleep of the just.
The scariest thing about this story is that, while I was at
Pennsic, I heard not one, but *two* different people tell stories of
how they got to Pennsic that were considerably worse than mine, and
have since heard others.