Word: greyhounds
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...trip takes only about a half-hour. Police cars and remnants of the crowd that saw the Pope still line the streets. At Beacon and Charles Streets, the Greyhound buses grind to a halt--and the pack is off again. In the Common garage is another press filing center--more typewriters, phones and telexes. And ladies serving food from U-Haul trailers. But there are more police checking the entry points. "Jesus Christ," says the one who looks at my lens, "there are more journalists than Catholics in Boston today...
...slightly more passengers on buses and subways. Reservations increased by 16% on airlines and by 40% on Amtrak's trains. Amtrak's 925 reservations clerks were overwhelmed by phone calls-1.3 million, four times the normal number, in the first week of May. Long-distance travel on Greyhound buses was up 20%. Sales of big cars during the first four months of 1979 were 8% lower than a year ago, while sales of small cars rose...
Claude, played by John Savage, awkwardly parts from his red-necked dad as the movie opens. The Greyhound approaches a foggy Oklahoma road, taking Claude to New York City where he is to spend his last days of liberty before enlisting into the Armed Forces. At Central Park, Claude meets up with his soon-to-be buddies who triumphantly ask him to spare some change. Amused by their long hair and "I've Got Life' spirit, he finally reaches into his pocket...
...stranded in Arkansas for the night. But Monksee uncorks some wine, and soon the bus is rocking to the sound of Bob Marley, everybody chanting "no woman no cry" right along with Marley. Jerry and Sapphire dance in the aisle. "What would happen if we were on Greyhound?" some one wonders. Sapphire reaches for the zinfandel. "Gimme that infidel!" Jerry is blowing his harmonica as the bus fills up with the sweet smell of marijuana...
...back on the road, went all the way to Portland that night, slept in the Greyhound station and next morning got on the eastbound bus and didn't get off until I had reached St. Louis two and a half days later, having seen the Rockies and Salt Lake City and the Great Plains as one great blur en route. Thanks to a friend in St. Louis, I had a nice warm bed and some home cooking again. I gave up all pretense to membership in the great club of hippies, freaks, road people and adventures. Six days, four friends...