The Greyhound Class

by Nic Olson

The Greyhound Class. The newest division of people that the Canadian Federal Government will soon recognize as its own income group. Slightly above the poverty line, but below the air travel line, these often inbred travellers use nothing besides the glorious Greyhound, because they mostly have no choice. Harmonicas in the back seat, machetes in the front seat, and a handful of aggravated grandmothers in between.

I spent my last two hours in America planning Mexico and stealing internet from a McDonalds in downtown Houston, and I arrived in America to do the same, this time at a Burger King in El Paso. When in Rome, hang out in the worst possible eateries that exist in the world. Or so the saying goes. I best not mingle too far above my tax bracket, especially when I plan to dive right back into the mire of the Greyhound Class in a few short hours.

The buses in Mexico rival first class airlines in Canada. The only thing I didn’t get, at least not courtesy of the bus line, was an ass massage. Free Spanish lessons, free tour guides, cheap burritos delivered directly to your seat, five hour border delays. The world could use two Mexicos, and zero Americas, I recently decided. For the bus travel alone.

So I have made the switch from first class bus travel with free bootlegged movie showings, to join the newest level of poverty, The Greyhound Class, and I have committed to two months of their disgruntled assistance. The Discovery Pass. Five-hundred and fifty dollars worth of unlimited Greyhound glory, well into the month of September.

In 2012, the Harper Government will provide their only tax cut for the poor, specifically for those who traveled more than 200 hours on the Greyhound in a span of six months. They call it, the ‘Smells Like A Can Of Gasoline Tax Cut’ which you can find on line 116 on your income tax return form. No receipt is necessary as proof, simply a grungy t-shirt, balled up and placed in a plastic bag, mailed to 24 Sussex Drive.