Our Greyhound Bus Experience
Strap in, friends, this is a long and harrowing ride. Literally, in the case of this friend.
At 11:45 PM (PDT), 10 of July, 2019, my dear friend, whom we shall call Oliver, was supposed to be leaving Seattle on his 11th cross country trip with Greyhound Bus Lines. Our intent was for him to have a leisurely trip to my home in Richmond VA and eventually fly home from Seattle after DragonCon. At least, that was the plan.
First of all, due to health problems, Oliver is a larger person, weighing 350 lbs. He is uses a motorized wheelchair for most mobility that weighs in at exactly 232 lbs. He is Ainu (a Japanese native minority).
Before they could begin to load Oliver on the wheelchair lift, the problems began. The lift began malfunctioning almost immediately, extending and promptly retracting. At one point, it actually reached the ground, and then refused to rise again. Several people fought to get the lift working and, even then, it repeatedly malfunctioned. It would not get off the ground empty, as they tested it without weight. At one point, Oliver was hovering about 1 1/2 feet (50 cm) off the ground with no motion in either direction. After an hour, the employees gave up, and the driver drove himself to the depot nearby to fetch a replacement bus and test the lift himself. 2 1/2 hours after the bus was meant to leave, it was finally ready to go.
That was the easiest part of this trip.
Upon arrival in Spokane at 7:09 AM PDT, it was discovered that the bus had missed their connection to a Jefferson Bus to Billings, MT, and across North Dakota, to Minneapolis (Jefferson Bus Lines serves the Mountain West from Spokane to Minneapolis, though the tickets are issued by Greyhound). The Spokane station is a Greyhound Station. In Spokane, Oliver was reissued his ticket for the next route west, leaving at 5:15 PM PDT. The new route also went to Billings via the same path, but crossed Wyoming and South Dakota, and on to Minneapolis, rather than North Dakota as his original itinerary did. Having the resources available, he seriously considered transferring to the Amtrak Empire Builder and eating the cost of the Greyhound ticket. In retrospect, he believes he should have, but hindsight is 20/20.
During his 12 hour layover, he called Greyhound Customer Service to tell them what had happened. He was told that nothing could be done about the issue until 24 hours after he had arrived at his final destination. That, by the way, would have meant that the earliest he could have called would have been on Monday the 15th of July, after the immediacy of the events could have been lost, particularly to someone with a neurological disability, which Oliver has (namely Moyamoya disease).
Upon attempting to reboard after 12 unexpected hours in Spokane and 2 meals out of pocket that he otherwise wouldnât have needed (Spokane has no restaurant in station as of that date), they checked what was to be the first of his Jefferson Lines busses, only to discover that, once again, the lift was broken. This was discovered, again, before an attempt was made to load Oliver. Jefferson Lines, however, was able to fix the problem almost immediately. Rather than try and fail to repair the lift, as Greyhound had in Seattle, they immediately went and got another one. During this time, Oliver discovered that his new ticket and his baggage route tag no longer matched (Greyhound has passengers take possession of their own bags at every stop, while Jefferson does not). The single, quite overwhelmed ticket agent in the station âfrom Jefferson, but doing the work of both companiesâ had issued everyone replacement tickets, but forgotten to also issue new route tags to put on the baggage itself. Thankfully, the young man who works there as the only luggage specialist was able to run in and grab a new baggage route tag for Oliver, thus making his bag match the itinerary on his ticket.
(Also relevant here and in future in the story is that Oliverâs bag was marked in Seattle with a bright pink a âspecial handlingâ tag. This is supposed to mean that baggage handlers at each Greyhound Station are supposed to handle his bag. Ultimately, the only Greyhound stations which respected this were Spokane and Chicago.)
He traveled uneventfully through the night from Spokane to Billings, Montana. Sadly, this meant that part of the reason Oliver had booked the trip as he did was moot. Heâs fond of Western Montana, thinks itâs beautiful, and had been looking forward to seeing it. However, due to the schedule shift, the bus was crossing the area not by day, but by night. His arrival in Billings was uneventful. His transfer to the next bus was likewise, due to the professionalism of the Jefferson employees. Alas, it was in Billings where the baggage error caught up with everyone on the bus, save him, who was continuing east. Since their baggage tags no longer matched their itineraries, their bags were held in Billings for the next bus across North Dakota to Minnesota. One friend he had made on the trip, weâll call her Countess, had lost her baggage, leaving her bereft of clothing suitable for the funeral she was attending in Chicago. Oliver, having caught the error, stayed with his bag across South Dakota and into Sioux Falls.
At this point, the night caught up to Oliver and he attempted to go to sleep. He uses a C-PAP. And, unfortunately, the electricity on the bus proved to be faulty. Ten times during the night, he awoke when his C-PAP shut off. However, he lays no blame on Jefferson for this as they were very apologetic about the complication and he did survive the night.
Minneapolis, unfortunately, is a Greyhound Station, despite it also being the Jefferson Lines corporate headquarters. By this point, three nights had elapsed and Oliver had only managed, at most, 4 hours of sleep per night, the whole time in a seated position. Whilst being loaded into a Greyhound bus from Minneapolis to Chicago, the driver and station personnel responsible for loading him onto the bus manhandled his chair by shoving, pulling, and yanking it into positions of their choice by the seat back, contrary to his explicit orders not to. This ultimately damaged the seat back. The actual trip from Minneapolis to Chicago was uneventful, as Oliver slept the whole way.
In Chicago, everything got better... and much, MUCH worse. The stationâs chief baggage handler saw to the handling of Oliverâs bag personally and attempted to console Countess as to her lost baggage. Heartened by the good treatment he and Countess had experienced at the hands of the chief baggage handler, and with memories of a similar wheelchair lift problem in Chicago on a similar trip two years prior having been handled remarkably well by the personnel at that station, Oliver decided that it would be in his best interests to talk to the customer service representatives who are stationed permanently at Chicago to see if his troubles for this trip could be similarly resolved.
He could not have been more wrong.
The customer service agent who took his complaint was not only extremely dismissive of his problems, but having not heard that the lift issue in Seattle took place before he used the lift, took it upon herself to tell him to his face that âweight is not a disability.â That, âthey shouldnât have to accommodate someone whose only disability is being fat.â That, âthe ADA has limits and you should know them.â
With Oliver now stunned into, in his own words âBeached Fish-style Silenceâ (mouth moving, no words coming out), she then walked away, talking quite well above conversational levels, about âentitled people who abuse the ADAâ, carrying this monologue throughout the station amongst the other station and talking about how it contributes so heavily to the delays in Greyhound service.
(Editorsâ Note: Iâm glad I wasnât there. As a female-bodied person with a disability causing insulin resistance, I feel very strongly about fat shaming and ableism. This person was 1000% out of line and itâs a common intimidation tactic to do what she did to pit other people against the disabled. Thankfully, it didnât work to turn them against him, though it did silence him, an abuse survivor with PTSD. Just be aware. This is a not-uncommon corporate tactic and NOBODY should tolerate it.)
He left Chicago, en route to Baltimore, via Cleveland and Pittsburgh. A mostly uneventful day passed crossing Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio. Alas, in Indiana, it was discovered that, like most drivers, this driver did not appreciate the thought of letting a wheelchair using passenger off the bus at meal stops. Oliver, at the outer limits of his capacity, is able to walk roughly 330 feet (100 meters) in a day. This meant that he could not easily walk into and out of the Howe, IN travel plaza, though he forced himself to do so anyway, as the alternative would be going roughly a full day without food. At all previous food stops, the driver or another passenger had been willing to take an order and money from Oliver, preventing delays. Indeed, the driver across Montana was so upset at herself for having to do so, that she kindly bought his food in Missoula with her own money. (Not surprisingly, she was a Jefferson employee....) The driver in Indiana? Not so much.
Given that he had no choice, Oliver walked into the travel plaza, purchased food and went back to the bus, collapsing in agony. At this point, it must be noted that, in addition to Moyamoya Disease, the condition that puts Oliver in a wheelchair is Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome Type VI, a degenerative connective tissue disorder. (Those interested can find more information online.)
After sitting in chair in agony for another hour and a half, the ride eventually returned to normal. Everything was fine into Cleveland. However, because on most Greyhound Busses, the restroom is in the back and the wheelchair seating is in the front, Oliver found himself needing to use the washroom in Cleveland, rather than doing so en route. This meant he had only enough time to either use the washroom or get food, not both. Given the choice, he decided to use the washroom. He was required to do so without his chair again. Upon reboarding, they were informed that, due to accumulated delays en route, they would not be having a rest stop at Pittsburgh, but would instead be continuing through the night into Baltimore. Thankfully, they had switched drivers in Cleveland, and when the new driver was told of Oliverâs needs, re-added a very short break in Pittsburgh to the trip to accommodate. This was necessary, as had he not had stopped in Pittsburgh, he would have been unable to use a washroom or acquire liquid to take his medicine.
From Pittsburgh, they then made Baltimore. However, somewhere in Ohio, (likely at Cleveland), Oliverâs luggage got lost. The loss was discovered in Baltimore when the suitcase did not appear at the side of the bus. He was told at Baltimore that it almost certainly had gone on to Richmond without him. That could not have been, as Oliver witnessed it being loaded in Chicago. The only possibility is that it had been unloaded at a station stop between Baltimore and Chicago, the most likely being Cleveland.
By this point, Oliver was too physically exhausted and emotionally worn out to do more than file a half-hearted complaint. This was also when Oliver discovered that his bus, which was to go from Baltimore to Richmond, having originated in New York, was running at least 4 hours late. No reason was ever given, though Oliver suspects it had to do with the blackout of Manhattan that day.
Two buses left Baltimore with a destination of Richmond, (including one that was an express between Baltimore, DC and Richmond), before his scheduled bus arrived. However, Greyhound would not change the ticket, due to the inconvenience to them of putting a wheelchair on one of those busses. His bus finally did arrive in Baltimore, 4 1/2 hours late. He boarded, minus trouble and luggage and proceeded to groggily travel through DC during rush hour, finally arriving in Richmond at 3:15 PM EDT on Sunday the 14th. This is a full 19 hours later than he should have, on a day when Richmondâs bus system is on a limited schedule and the only local wheelchair transports are impossible unless pre-booked.
At this point, I fetched him from the station, using what means I had, and guided him to my house, via these limited busses. This forced us to hike/roll a mile and a half from the last bus stop served to home, in 90 degree F (33 C) heat and both of us exhausted, angry and miserable.
He is now here, finally, and has had a full nightâs sleep. Where his story goes from here is anyoneâs guess, but I think it safe to say it wonât be getting there via Greyhound, as they have lost a lifelong customer.