I have pretty short hair, so it doesn't matter all that much, but I realized this morning that I have not washed my hair in at least three days. Hey, I could be French! C'est grand!
Ah, I'm just kidding. Happy Bastille Day, froggie-types.
In case you had any doubt as to whether Marlon Brando was a nutcase: "it always was the Oscar-winning actor's dream to play a woman in an animated movie."
Now available at the Cedar Point amusement park in North Canton, Ohio: Free metal shavings!
I have just cancelled my vacation to the Detroit suburb of Center Line.
Donner, party of 24, your table is ready.
Interesting true fact: The Japanese bombed Omaha, Neb., during World War II.
I'm not sure whether you could still get to Omaha by bus too see where the bomb landed, though. The fact that Greyhound has shed a number of its routes admittedly slipped beneath my radar, but I still find it a little sad. I once spent a few gloriously sleepless days travelling on the bus from Albany, N.Y. to Minneapolis when I was in college. It was on that trip, during a short stop in Cleveland, that I learned there is nothing quite so wonderful as a basket of fresh, hot French fries at 3 a.m.
I also learned that it is important to be the first person on the bus, so you can quickly take up two seats and feign being asleep, else you may find yourself sitting next to a man with the worst-smelling feet in North America. When he took off his shoes, the bus driver threatened to kick him off the bus if he did not put them back on.
I'm not the sort of person to wax poetic about a busload of people who spent 30 minutes arguing whether Milwaukee's hockey team is better than the Chicago Blackhawks (astute readers will note that such an argument is inherently flawed, due to the fact that Milwaukee does not have an NHL team), but many of the people on that bus were people with dreams and hopes, and the Greyhound bus was taking them there. I can't help but wonder now how small-town dreamers, grandmothers and lovesick college students will undertake their journeys now.
My co-worker, Scott, shares a few of his Greyhound memories in his latest Weird Chroncles column.