On the Road to Ragbrai: The Worst 36 Hours of my Life

On the Road to Ragbrai: The Worst 36 Hours of my Life

This was my seventh year of riding Ragbrai.  I will have to admit that I was not as excited about it as in years past, but I had signed-up and paid my money.....so I was going.  What I learned from this Ragbrai is that I can survive just about any situation I am put into and, although cliche, surrounding yourself with people that really care about you is one of the best things you can do when life is....well, crapping on you. 

I had decided prior to heading to Iowa I would travel to Chicago first to spend time with Bob, the guy that I have been seeing for the past year and half (changed his name to protect the innocent).  After taking a 21 hour, overnight train to Chicago form Charlottesville, I headed to Bob's apartment were he was supposed to be.  Upon arriving I discovered that Bob had not taken the day off of work as he had suggested he would do.  After unpacking my things and going on a run, I called and asked where he was.  That is when I learned that he was going to be heading to St. Louis that night so that he could drive his grandmother and aunt to Jefferson City to see his brother.  

What...did I hear you correctly....you are headed where? At this point in the trip I am livid.  

Not only had a just gotten off a train that I had been riding more than 21 hours between Charlottesville, Virginia and Chicago, Illinois where I did not sleep and did not shower--I have discovered that the trip was basically for nothing because the person I had come to see was leaving town. You must note that this was not the only miscommunication that we dealt with in the past couple months. Up until this point I tried to throw aside the signs that everyone was pointing out (that maybe this guy really was not interested in being in this relationship right now), but this action made it pretty obvious. So I broke-up with him. 

+20 for this becoming the worst 36 hours of my life 

There are several reasons why this decision of mine was absolutely a horrible one.  Frist, I really like Bob and am certain that it is going to take lots of time to get over him.  Two...and most importantly, he was going to be my ride to Iowa.  So having very little options of how to get to Iowa--on a very tight budget and with a lot of gear to transport--left me with the option of booking a ticket on a Greyhound that would depart from downtown Chicago at 9:45 p.m. and arrive in Des Moines, Iowa at 5:00 a.m.  

Upon arriving at the greyhound station, I realized that this option of riding the greyhound bus was a horrible one....the station was filled with travelers that look like... Well.........let's just say that I have traveled in lots of counrties and my means of getting around have usually been less than ideal, but this particular station appears to be filled with the roughest crowd I have ever dealt with.  Not having really any other option at this point I decide to suck it up and deal with it.

After loading my bags under the bus and settling in my seat, I am asked by an older woman if the seat next to me is taken and I reply"no." She situated her belongings and nestled down for what will prove to be the longest 7 hours of my life.  Just as I close my eyes and start to relax the woman turns and says, "You may have noticed my husky voice and my large hands....well, let me tell you why." 

Can this seriously be happening to me!  

Yes, it can be...and for the next 7 hours I am told the in-depth saga of "formally known as DeWayne's" transformation into Joanne.  

+50 for this being the worst 36 hours and at this point my hate for Bob has heightened.

At 5:00 a.m. I am dropped at the Des Moines Greyhound station.  A building lighted with flickering fluorescence and a t.v. that is blaring one of those competitive dog shows where the owners prance across the show room with their dog. Something I found to be slightly odd...not the prancing, but the airing of this show in a greyhound bus station at 5 in the morning.

The room is sparsely filled with individuals who look to have had as rough of lives as my last 7 hours have been. My plan was to stick around the bus station until it had gotten closer to 7:30, which is when I was supposed to meet the rest of my team at the car-dealership, owned by the my team's captain. But on a further inspection of the joint, I decide that sitting outside a dealership at 5:00 in the morning cannot be worse than the bus station...so I catch a cab.

After unloading about three tons of crap out of the trunk of the cab (the massive amount of baggage was due to me having to bring all my stuff that I had left in Bob's apartment prior to moving out of Chicago), I sat on the sidewalk to wait the two-and-half-hours until the rest of my team would show-up.  

Around 6:30am,  employees that work in the auto-shop of the dealership start arriving.  I thought it was pretty weird that not one of them waved or said hello to me--this is Iowa, but I pay it no mind. Then at 6:50 one of the guys from the shop crosses the parking lot and walks over to me.  

He says, "Hey, do you need something?"  

I respond, "Oh, no.  I am just waiting on the rest of the team for Ragbrai."  

He says, "Oh, your part of the team!  We all thought you were homeless."

One more notch in the belt of why Bob is really sucking right now and +15 and -25 to the ego....do I seriously look that bad to be confused with a homeless person.

That afternoon I am sitting with my friend Katherine telling her about my past 35 hours.  She is laughing and says that my story reminds her of the Rugrats movie that came out.  She describes how in one part of the movie the character Alfalfa says something along the lines of, "Just when I think that life could not get any worse, God opens up the clouds and says, 'Alfalfa, I hate you!'"  Just as Katherine finishes telling me about the movie the skies open up on me and a bird craps on my jersey.

+1000 and thus ending what has had to be the worst 36 hours of my life. 

Photos

The top photograph is a group of people that decided to ride that contraption the first day (I did not see them the rest of the week--although I did see the woman everyday that chose to run the whole course)

The middle photo is of a 5-year-old local who decided to dress-up in his spiderman suit for Ragbrai coming through his hometown.  Note that even his helmet coordinates.

Lastly, is a picture of riders on the second to last morning of Ragbrai.  I thought the mist and the tree in the background made for a great photo.