There are places on this planet that parents would love to bring their children. Places so beautiful and magnificent, they can hardly be described with human words. To see the face of a child when you bring them to their first baseball game. It’s the face of pure enjoyment and wonder. How was this place built? Is every human on Earth in this building right now? Hot dogs are only $7.50? This has to be a dream. I want to die here. Children have such wild imaginations.
There are other places, as well. The Olive Garden, for instance. What a grand achievement in the world of scrumtious, mouth watering perfection. Endless pasta? Unbelievable. Of course a child can only eat like three noodles, but who cares. More for you. What about those bread sticks? Omg! Forget the dinner. Just keep those greasy, dick-shaped, delicious carbs coming.
Then there are places you wish you could avoid, if at all possible. You don’t want to take your family on vacation to a back-alley in Brooklyn, or the red light district in Amsterdam. Don’t get me wrong, those are wonderful places to go with your friends, but save that for when your wife thinks you’re away on “business.”
Sometimes, you can’t avoid terrible places, because of the bad choices you’ve made in life. If you would have left the bar an hour earlier, you might not have crashed into the patrol car and lost your license. You decided to stick around until the lights came on, so you could pick up the last fat chick in the bar. So now you have to take the bus. That is no one’s fault but yours… and Hank’s. Fucking Hank! Why did you let him talk you into staying? Forget Hank. He’s dead to you.
Let’s get back on track. The purpose of this whole thing is to explain to you why riding the bus sucks. More specifically, why the Atlantic City Bus Terminal is hell on Earth. I may be a little graphic in describing this shit hole, so if you are squeamish, please cover your eyes while you read.
You must purchase a ticket to ride the bus. This may seem obvious to most people, but you’d be surprised how many people try to con the driver into getting a free ride. To purchase a ticket, you must enter a disease infested building, walk up to a glass window, and tell the only other sane person in the building where you want to go. You give him money, he gives you a ticket. Simple. It’s the only part of the experience that will be considered normal human behavior. Before you reach that window, actually the instant you enter the doorway to the building, a massive gust of unsettling filth blows directly into your face. It is the smell of death… The smell of hundreds of homeless people in an orgy… Excuse me, this is very difficult to describe. I got it. Do you remember that time at work when one of your coworkers thought it would be hilarious to bring a catfish, broccoli, human terd, egg salad sandwich wrapped in cabbage into the break room? Do you also remember how he put the sandwich in the microwave on high for twenty minutes and left the building? Then the sandwich caught fire and the microwave committed suicide? People were puking and stampeding to leave, but that sandwich guy locked the door on his way out. Everyone was tossing handfuls of shit, scratching a clawing at each other, and setting each other on fire, until there was nothing left but a giant pile of burning flesh and ass hairs. Do you remember? Multiply that smell by infinity. That is the bus terminal.
I would say the place is not cleaned ever, but I believe they just have a different approach to cleaning than you or I. I have a theory. By the stickiness of the floors and walls, there must be a person whose job it is to swab something across them to create such an even layer of goop. I haven’t proven it yet, but I’m pretty sure the cleaning lady stands in the middle of a one hundred homeless man bukake. She takes the gallons of semen and puts it in the mop bucket, adds a dash of Ajax or Comet, then spreads it all over the place. Yeah, I’m pretty sure.
Every so often, you have to pee, or god help you, poo. There is a bathroom. In this bathroom, you will find that people just like to hang out. I’m not really sure why, but I’m sure it has something to do with drugs. One guy in the bathroom is going to be a famous rapper one day. He likes to rap about fucking. His words don’t rhyme, and he repeats himself quite a lot, but I think he has potential. The guy using the middle of three urinals when all three are open is either jerking off or his clap is acting up and burning so bad that he moans and shakes vigorously. Then there is the guy standing under the hand dryer with his pants around his ankles. I know he’s not drying his hands, because the sink doesn’t work.
You finally escape the bathroom to find Hank yelling, “Donuts! You want some donuts?” Poor Hank. What has become of you? Anyway, Hank has two trash bags full of donuts. He claims they are good. I myself do not want anything to do with Hank or the donuts he probably dug out of a dumpster. The hundred or so other people were very interested. Some taking five or six donuts, then complaining he didn’t bring coffee or gin to wash them down.
Whenever you go to this bus terminal, you must be certain to have lots of extra cigarettes and spare change. Other people are so forgetful. They almost always leave theirs at home. Smoking is not allowed in or around the building, because someone who doesn’t smoke might one day decide to visit the bus terminal, and we wouldn’t want to offend her with cigarette smoke. Body odor, halitosis, and stupidity are acceptable ways of offending her.
So there you go. You should definitely take your kids to see the majestic Atlantic City Bus Terminal at least once. It may actually teach them how not to live their lives.