I just got off a 10 hour bus ride from Pensacola Beach, Florida to Nashville with 160 other college students. We truly were on the struggle bus.
  1. Hour 1: Hangover--anger at myself for the number of drinks that were had yesterday; hopelessness at the realization I may be forced to be on a bus for 9 hours all the while feeling like I need to vomit.
  2. Hour 2: Ready for sleep--headphones in, I find that playlist that is calm but also has an ample amount of EDM in it to remind me of the weekend, try and close my eyes.
  3. Hour 3: Realization sleep isn't going to happen--panic sets in; what if I can't sleep at all? When will I stop being hungover? Why does my body do this to me? Why are charter bus seats this uncomfortable?
  4. Hour 4: Sleep--awful sleep, but finally drifted off after enough Tylenol PM to tranquilize a small elephant.
  5. Hour 5: Anger over sleep not happening anymore; the quest for food begins; this hanger caused a rampage on the girl who asked, "What's taking so long."
  6. Hour 6: Food! I wish I wasn't so excited about Arby's, but, alas it was fantastic. We turned this into a full meal which last an hour. People requested this last 20 minutes--I made sure to go around and tell everyone the plan changed to an hour.
  7. Hour 7: Crippling depression sets in--no more sleep, the food is done, only rural Alabama is on the horizon. Contemplation begins on how various towns in Alabama are pronounced/spelled.
    PSA: Eutaw, AL=Utah
  8. Hour 8: Comic relief--we come across one of the other 2 buses which left 2 hours before us; it is in a rest area parking lot waiting for a tire to replace one that blew out. The irony of us getting there before them after they left 2 hours earlier is pretty comical to me at hour 8 of this ride.
  9. Hour 9~20 minutes in: Pass the exit for my internship, think "awesome, we're super close," then remember how bitterly I complain about how long the drive is out there from downtown. 40 mins in: girl asks AGAIN how close we are as we can see the skyline; others step in and berate her as they should.
  10. Hour 10: Arrival. Thank, God. Next year--we fly.