A Lonely Greyhound Bus Station

Author: Tommy Liquori

Table of Contents

It all started three days before Christmas December 22, 1999 at a Greyhound bus station in Ft. Drum N.Y. It was about 11:00 A.M, as I sat in the bus station alone, cold, and distressed. As I looked around, I found it weird that there was no one around at all in the station as I waited for my bus to arrive, except for an old white man wearing a greyhound company uniform positioned behind a desk to sell bus tickets. It was so quiet, that all I could hear was the sound of the wind blowing outside and the ice falling from the roof above me as I started to reminisce of my day thus far.

Reflecting on My Day

We just had a terrible snowstorm the night prior and the whole military base was blanketed in snow and ice. I (Thomas Liquori) was getting ready in my military camouflage clothes and putting on my freshly shined boots, so shiny that I could see my reflection in the tips of the boots as I look down at them. I was doing this so I could get an early start to the day, since I had to plow the Army base of the snow that made the roads very treacherous for drivers to travel on. On my way out of my barrack room, I saw my NCO (Non commanding officer) Sergeant Johnson. As we started our conversation, he told me that I was called into Captain Lee’s office because there was something very serious that I needed to be briefed on. Complying with my Sergeants’ order, I quickly bid him a good day and made my way out of the living quarters building, to make my way around the corner to the command center where my Captain’s office was located. I made my way up the stairs toward Captain Lee’s office very anxious to find out what was needed to be told to me. I knocked three times on the door, as I screamed, “Private First Class Liquori Reporting Sir!” As I opened up the door, I saw Captain Lee standing behind his desk, and Sergeant Johnson standing to the left of the Captain’s desk. My first thought was, how did Sergeant Johnson get here so fast before me? I walked into the Captain’s office, stood at attention in front of his desk as I saluted my company commander. He told me to take a seat as he explained the severity of the situation. I quickly made my way back to my living quarters, where I could call a cab to take me to the greyhound bus station in town. I quickly packed a regulation Army duffle bag with civilian clothes and toiletries that was needed for my long haul. As the cab pulled up to the bus station, all I could think of was how the bus station looked abandoned and ghostly. I went inside the station bought my ticket from an old white man that looked like he had been working there a little too long and took my seat and listened to the quietness of Mother Nature around me. A few minutes went by as I reminisced of my day thus far. Suddenly, I heard a loud ring echoing in the silenced bus station. Once the ringing stopped for a minute, I heard the old white man yell, “Is there a Thomas Liquori here in this station?” Thinking to myself, who could know I’m here except for my NCO and Captain, I quickly made my way to the old white man’s desk. The old white man said, “Here you have a phone call”. I said, “Hello”, as I waited for the other voice on the other end to get a reply, I came to find out it was my NCO Sergeant Johnson. He told me that he was sorry, and that I didn’t make it in time. He also stated to call him when I get done with what I needed to do once I get to my destination.

The News I Was Dreading

As I hung up the phone and made my way back to the seating area to wait for my bus, a strong cold wind blew in from the door as I walked past it. I sat down at a seat in disbelief over the news I just received. Finally, I see through the frost covered window, my bus finally arriving. As I prepare to get my duffle bag on my back and make my way to the bus a teardrop falls from my eye as I think, I can’t believe that this had to happen three days before Christmas. I wish I could have only made it in time to have a few minutes with my father before he passed away.

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