Seat #13

December 2, 2009: Handing over my 1000 pound backpack to the conductor at the bus station to place underneath the coach, I was issued a receipt for my baggage, making my way to seat #13 as I comfortably sat down, pulling out my book and iPod awaiting my 10 hour journey to small town of El Banco, Colombia. I was extremely happy to finally get the opportunity to truly relax, since I arrived at the bus station 8 hours ago. It is not like I enjoy hanging around bus station for extended periods of time, I just decided that there was no reason for me to leave the station after an 18 hour bus ride to a town I have already been to. In addition to this, the first time I was here I was taken advantage of by an old crusty mischievous man in yellow automobile who was soliciting his services. Even if I did want to spend the night, I didn’t even remember the proper name of where I stayed except for the name I gave it…the Drug House - it was better that I didn’t leave the bus station.

Shortly after sitting down, I realized that someone else was issued a ticket for the same seat. A woman asked me if I could sit in her seat (my misinterpreted translation) so that her kids can sit together. Not minding where I sat since I already had an aisle seat, I happily agreed. The bus continued to fill up as the people were pilling on, soon to find out I was occupying a seat that belonged to someone else. Not understanding what was going on and to avoid playing a late night game of musical chairs, I waved for the conductor as he came down the aisle to see what the issue was. The issue was swiftly resolved as I was…kicked off the bus before it even left. Everyone seemed to be staring at me as I did the walk of shame down the aisle as I made my way toward the door. What a horrible time to find out that I waited at the bus station for 8 hours to discover that I somehow bought a ticket that was to leave tomorrow night at 10pm, not tonight.

Getting off the bus that had no more space, I was a bit frustrated since this company has only one bus a night that leaves for this destination…meaning that I might have to get a room for the night - defeating the whole purpose on why I was at the station the entire day. Quickly I made it up to the ticket counter as I successfully faked a smile informing the man who previously sold me the ticket on what happened. He tried to issue me a ticket on the full bus - not surprised of the expression that overtook his face. Having a whispering match between himself and his manager, they seemed to have an answer. Quickly they gave me my money back as the manager walked me over to the next ticket counter to a company that also transports people to El Banco, which thankfully happened to have some available seats.

When the ticket was placed in my hands for a bus that left in 20 minutes, I was able to take a deep breath -that was immediately lost as soon as I realized something important…I forgot my backpack in the luggage compartment on the bus that should have left 8 minutes ago. Painfully sprinting (another story) down 3 flights of stairs I made it to the security gate seeing my ex-bus through the glass window with its headlights on. Trying to clear security, the man wouldn’t let me through the exit point nor would the ticket agent let me through the entrance point since my bus that I just bought a ticket for has not yet arrived. My mind went blank forgetting how to say anything in Spanish, reverting to pointing and making silly shapes with my hands. I did not know the terminology to explain what happened, nor did I have the time to pull out my dictionary and look it up. Managing to speak some hard core Spanglish very quickly, I showed the woman a tiny crinkled piece of paper that slightly resembled a receipt for my baggage on a different bus. She kept shaking her head left and right when I needed it to go up and down. Eventually she let me through not knowing if she knew what I was saying or just saw the panic on my face. Clearing the gate I ran down the loading area, dodging porters and boxes that occupied my path to my bus that was slowing backing up. Hitting the front windshield, the driver stopped the rotating wheels and looked at me as if I was crazy. Showing him my receipt and pointing down he seemed to realize what was taking place as a smile came across his face.

Pulling out my luggage from the depth of the bus, I would not look up at the passengers in the window, too embarrassed on what just happened as the sweat poured from my face with my heart about to rip out of my chest and run away. Still in a daze, I could not help to think of my initial hesitation when I received my ticket for 13…seat #13.