I can hear the crinkling sound of a packet of crisps being opened. Crunch. Crunch. We're speeding along the left side of the road, and my bladder is cursing me for that cup of lukewarm mocha so inconveniently consumed right before the journey started.
The couple in front of me are joined together in holy naptrimony, and I can't tell if that little snorty snore that just escaped from its olfactory prison was from the man or the woman.
The seats are upholstered in a tacky velour fabric, royal blue with yellow and orange geometric Pacman-esque shapes. It complements the shiny shell of the exterior, in the same shade of royal blue, with bright yellow letters spelling out "MEGABUS."
It reminds me of Santa Clara High School's colors, and I feel a twinge of nostalgia for my high school days across the other side of the world.
As I turn back to see if the bathroom is vacant, I notice that everyone is sleeping. Some people have their heads rested back, and others are sprawled across both seats.
It's funny how, no matter what age or gender, everyone looks so serene and innocent when they're sleeping. Normally furrowed brows become uncreased. Nervous, shaky limbs become tranquilized. Tranquil eyes?
Heads gently bob from the movement of the bus. Mouths are relaxed, neither smiling nor frowning, slightly parted to let warm air out. Expressions are even more neutral than Switzerland.
Next stop: London!