The oddities of East Coast travel

Some of you may have already heard this story, but I'm going to tell it anyway.

I usually travel to New York City to see Ben every other weekend. I take the bus. It's nothing glamorous, but it's cheap. And since I've switched to Greyhound/Peter Pan, the trips are uneventful -- always a good thing. The trip tends to take around four hours in the fall and winter. In the summer when the interstate is jammed with vacationers going to the Eastern Shore, I'm happy to reach the city in five hours.

A few weeks ago, the trip was smooth for the first four hours. But the driver, uh, took an unusual route. A route so off track that we got to New York City almost two hours behind schedule. We toured Queens and the Bronx. Thing is, I just thought the driver took a different route because the Lincoln Tunnel was jammed. But an hour after seeing Yankee Stadium and Shea Stadium, the driver uttered some of the scariest words this gal has heard: "Does anyone know how to get to the Port Authority is?"

When we finally got to Manhattan, the bus man didn't understand how to get into the bus terminal. We circled the Port Authority twice before he figured it out.

I still take the bus. And so far, I haven't seen Yankee Stadium.