The American Dream
It was probably another drunken night at university when Sarah started talking about going to America for the summer holidays. The idea sounded great, why not. Just after Christmas we started to put our American Dream into action, we joined Bunac, and started to really think about the what, where and how. Filling in the forms, we had the option to fly out to New York, and back from Los Angeles, sounded good, we wanted to see both so why not. We found a theme park in Wildwood, New Jersey, applied online for some summer jobs and accepted, Ben, Emma and myself took ride host jobs, Sarah and Martin decided to be lifeguards.
We didn't really think about how we were going to get to LA at the end of the summer, we didn't really care, it's only 3000 miles, can't be hard, can it?
We all met at Heathrow Airport before checking in for our flight, it was the middle of June and the place was heaving. After checkin and a few goodbyes to our parents, we moved into the comfy departures lounge. It was early morning, but it didn't stop us knocking back a free whiskey from the duty free shop. I finished my home made sarnies as we left for the gate to board the plane. Biggles (Ben) had to take his boots off to get through security, it made me laugh, but I had to hide it otherwise I might end up being bent over and a yank giving me the rubber glove treatment. I counted myself lucky as I sat down next to Martin on the American Airlines flight.
We wern't all lucky enough to get seats next to each other. Emma managed to swap and was sat next to Sarah infront of us, Biggles on the otherhand was all on his own down the front of the plane. An American businessman was sat behind us with two spare seats either side of him, but it turned out the twat had booked all three seats so he could lie down. I made a mental note to try and piss him off.
Aiming to take full advantage of the free alcohol, me and Martin made a start on the miniatures. After a number vodkas, we started to feel light headed, good job food was coming. Sadly, the incompetent staff started at the front of the plane and worked back, the choice at the front was chicken or fish, by the time they worked their was back to us, it was fish or fish. I took the bread role and ordered another drink. Martin had his special veggie meal, which made us all laugh. Being an anti-veggie, Sarah thought it would be funny to order him a special meal, it didn't go down well, but it was a good laugh. The film was a blur, I'm sure it was crap anyway. The flight attendants were starting to get pissed off with us buzzing them and asking for more booze. Then the inevitable came, they refused to serve us on the grounds we were drunk. We waited for them to sit down and have their lunch, and sneaked to the back of the plane and raided their trolley, we only got a few, but we were busted and had to hand them back over, shame.
We touched down in JFK, New York, was a fairly smooth flight, but I wasn't impressed with American Airlines, wouldn't plan on ever flying with them again if I had a choice. We went through into the worst place in the world US immigration. After what seemed like an eternity, and still half cut from the vodka on the plane, I was called up to the desk. He was Spanish American kinda guy, I couldn't understand him, he couldn't understand me, but I could tell he wasn't happy with the documents I had just filled in for him. I realised he wanted proof of my job, so I went to take out the papers from my small rucksack, as I reached back, i dropped my bag, my heart skipped a beat as I realised I had my Laptop in the bag. I thought the worst about my laptop, having a crack down the screen or the drive smashed or something, have to wait and see. The officer was saying something to me, over and over, I couldn't work it out as I looked round for help, no one, I saw the rest of the gang on the otherside of the control waiting for me, why was I getting all the hassle. After what seemed like hours, I realised the guy was pointing at his name badge, which read ?orey? I was heading towards Morey's Piers in Wildwood, was that it, freak, he stamped the form and I was in.
We were told we needed to find other Bunac people at the airport and head towards the hostel in taxi's as there wouldn't be a bus to pick us up, so we headed out to the taxi ranks. Emma had got collared by a guy saying we could get in his dodgy old mini-van. We managed to get away from him and jumped into a couple of yellow cabs. We had a bit of a tour through Manhattan as we traveled to our first night accommodation on Amsterdam Ave. After checking in and offloading our bags, we took a quick shower and headed into the city.
We didn't have long here, it was about midday and we were aiming to be on a bus this time tomorrow heading down to Wildwood. We walked for miles, on a mission to 'do' New York in a day! I'd been here two years earlier, and as we found Ground Zero, I thought back to when I was last here, and planned to go up top the top of the Twin Towers, but I didn't see the point of paying to go up a lift, wish I had now. Maybe I jinxed the place. I took some pics for my brother, whose company had made a bridge that was down in this massive hole in the ground. We decided not to bother with the dedicated viewing platform, they charged you to see the hole from a few feet higher. As we walked past the church that was used as a morgue, I saw loads of street sellers trying to make a fast buck at the tragedy. My thoughts were quickly broken when we saw a yellow cab with a ?rine-town sign on the top, it made me laugh, maybe I'm simple. We had a Mac'ds for lunch and did lots more walking around. We made it back to the hostel by last light and sat in the garden cooling off and relaxing after a busy day. Few headed off to bed, but me and Biggles were hungry, so we went for a walk to find some food. We found a seedy burger king, quickly scoffed our food as we felt a little uncomfortable in the area. Two white Brits in the middle of Manhattan, made you feel small. We headed back to the hostel and went to bed.
After bagels for breakfast, we went to the compulsory orientation meeting, so we could be told the do's and don'ts of America! We took our free t-shirt, grabbed our bags and headed for the pickup point for the bus to Wildwood. We arrived at Columbia University, it was huge, we made our way to the park like thing in the middle, sat down on the grass and waited. Boredom quickly set in. Sarah was spread out soaking up the sun, Nitram (Martin) and Emma were playing husband and wife in the corner, so me and Biggles went for a walk. We couldn't go far as we weren't sure what time the bus was, so we found ourselves latching on the back of the prospective students tour of the uni. They soon rumbled us, we stood out a mile, everyone dressed to impress and us in our scraggy short and t-shirts.
The bus journey was pretty boring down to Wildwood. We watched Snow Dogs, everyone thought it was crap, but I enjoyed it. We got off the bus in what appeared to be a ghost town. There was nothing around the bus station, we knew our theme park was a set of piers on the sea front, so we headed to the sea. We let the human resources people know we were here, dumped our bags, grabbed a local landlord list and set out in search of somewhere to stay for the summer. We had about 4 hours before last light, and from the first few calls, it wasn't looking good. We looked at a few places, expensive, stuffy, all in all complete shit holes. We bumped into two girls, both from the UK, also looking for a room. We asked if they wanted to join us and look for an apartment, but the one girl seem to take an instant dislike to us, and they went their own way. We were beginning to lose all hope, it was hot, I was covered in sweat, I was pissed off. Most hostel type places had individual rooms, but they were dives, their idea of air con was an open window and a huge fan, all charged as extras! As we were walking down the street, not knowing where to go, we noticed a builder working on a house. We thought we'd ask, see if he knew anyone, we were in luck, he was finishing these apartments and they were nearly ready for letting. We did some sums, and realised we needed 3 other people in order to rent the place for the summer. As luck would have it, a black guy from Manchester walked past, he was a footballer, you could tell, but we thought we'd still ask him. He was in the same situation as us, and jumped at out offer.
1 down, 2 to go, we would worry about that later, we put our names down for the place. It would be a few days till we could move in, so we needed to find somewhere to stay tonight at least, our builder knew of a guy up the road who was gutting a building, we tried our luck. It was a derelict building, but it was ok, we were charged $10 each for some floor space, it was better than nothing i suppose. After collecting our bags, we headed out for food, on the corner was a take-away come pizza restaurant thing, we went in and ordered some chips. By chance, we were chatting to the owner, and he mentioned his waitress was looking for somewhere to live, we waited, and sure enough a Canadian girl turned up, Christy, she and her mate were looking for a place to live, we had our 8.
The next few days we changed between motels looking for the cheapest deal. We had checked out the theme park, walked around the town, played lots of pool in the bars, it was now time to get pissed. We were starting work the next day, everyone except Biggles and me couldn't be bothered, so we left them in the apartment in search of beer. The place was dead, maybe we were too early, we had a good time and knocked back quite a few hopping from bar to bar. On the way back to our motel, Biggles thought it would be funny to push me into a telegraph pole, we were both so pissed he hit me harder than he thought, I missed the pole and ended up landing in the middle of the road, my digi camera took the brunt of the fall, but it was a robust little bugger, anyway, Biggles plan had failed, I missed the pole. I didn't realise till later on, but I had a cut on my arm, I was too drunk to feel it, and too smashed to give a shit, so I went to bed. The 5 of us and the Manc were sharing the large family room, me and Biggles were sleeping head-toe in the double bed, it didn't bother me. I woke the next day to find the bed covered in blood, from my arm. It had been bleeding for a while, and I had rolled over a few times in the night and it looked like someone had been murdered in there. Luckily we were checking out that day, and even more luck, they didn't inspect the room before we left! We dropped our bags off at our new apartment, signed the contract, and went to work.
I was sent to the Nor-Easter, a large roller coaster where your legs hang down, it was great, first day at the park and I was working on the biggest ride. That pissed a lot of people off, the majority of people got lumbered with the kiddy kingdom rides. The place was dead during the day, too hot I suppose, majority of people down on the beach or in the water parks. Night time, it came alive, hundreds of sugar high yanks looking for a thrill. I was working with an Irish man, introduced to me as Paddy, I thought it was a joke, but he liked to be called Paddy. I couldn't understand a single word the guy said at first, but I liked him, up for a laugh, and liked his beer.
Iain was a weird chap, from Scotland, and liked to keep himself to himself. I liked the guy, he was different, plus he spent all his money playing the boardwalk games trying to win a huge dog teddy thing. The amount he spent playing them he could have brought a dog ten times over, still, whatever turns you on.
Keith and Elaine, both mates of Paddy's from back in Ireland seemed to enjoy their drink as much as any other Irishman out there. At the time, I'd never been to Ireland, but it felt as if I was there, not North America, the place was full of them. That wasn't a bad thing, they knew how to have a good time, and knew how to drink.
I was working with the girl I'd bumped into looking for a flat, not her mate that didn't like me, but Alison. An English girl who has really weird eyes, they scared me at times, but we got on well.
The summer was going really well. Our apartment had cable TV, air con, a perfect place to meet everyone before a night out. Pretty much every night was party night, the usual pattern fell into place, get up at midday, go to work, come home, off license, get drunk, go out, come home and bed. It was a hard life, but someone had to do it! I did feel sorry for the hundreds of parents who laid their trust in us ?esponsible adults, normally operating potentially dangerous rides either hung over, or still buzzing from the night before. I was assigned another ride to work on, the Fire Chief. It was a kiddy ride, I thought I was being punished at first, until I found I could hide in the back of the truck, out of sight and out of the sun. IT was a perfect hangover cure, sit there and enjoy the day, hide from the kids so they didn't come on your ride, and looking out at Paddy, Keith, Elaine and Alison working slugging their guts looking after little American kids.
The summer was passing us by, and we still hadn't made any plans on how to get to LA. We hadn't really thought about it, knowing that if the worse came to the worse, we could just jump on a greyhound and make our way over.
Four of us had the same day off, Biggles, Sarah, Nitram and me, jumped on a bus for Atlantic City. As we sat on the bus, we noticed a newspaper on the seat. I picked it up just for the sake of having something to do. I noticed the car sales section and we started talking about buying an old car and driving to LA, it was then that the advert hit us like a slap in the face. ?975 int Prison Bus, complete with cage and bars, $600? WOW! We ripped out the advert, as we all pictured a prison bus with cage and bars! As soon as we arrived, we rang the number and spoke to the bus man. It was still for sale, and he was on his way to pick us up to see the bus. He turned up in his huge SUV, we all jumped in as he drove us off into the countryside. As we were driving down the road, we saw the beast poking out from the trees. Apparently the guy had brought it at a government auction and his wife was making him get rid of it, what a bitch, who wouldn't want a prison bus!
We had a good look round the bus, it was a monster, 28 feet long, one mother of a v8 engine, which started first time, and 22 seats, including the guards seat outside the cage at the front of the bus. It was perfect. We didn't have a clue about driving this kind of monster in America, at the time we weren't too bothered, would we need insurance, who cares, we would cross that bridge when we came to it. We handed over a deposit, the bus was ours. He agreed to hold onto the bus for the time being, as we lived more than an hour away, and weren't sure if we could drive the thing. He dropped us off back in Atlantic City, we just wanted to get back to Wildwood now and tell everyone about what we had just brought.
We started looking into the legal side of driving a decommissioned prison bus across north America. In the UK, we were covered to drive a milk float, a normal car, and a small mini bus up to 8 seater would the same apply!? A trip to the local police station and we were none the wiser, the locals were just gob-smacked by the funny language on my photo license Welsh. We left and returned when they had finished laughing, and learned that we would need the International Driving License, which according to the UK Government website, we didn't need. According to the local police, if we had one of these, and insurance, we'd be fine. After paying over the sum to the bus man, we arranged to get it dropped off in Wildwood, I think the old man was getting some serious flack off his missus, so he was happy to drive it down to us for nothing in return.
We managed to squeeze the bus down the side of our rented apartment, but this soon attracted some attention from the landlord, and we were forced to find a new home for our beast for the rest of the summer. A local businessman who had a large yard area up the road offered to sell us a parking space for the summer, we had no other option but to accept. This was my first time driving the bus, it truly was a beast. This was the biggest thing I had ever driven, and pulling off the drive was slow and painful work, not to mention a few scrapes on the side of the house but that wasn't my fault it was parked too close!
Our adventure was beginning to take shape, we had a destination, and a method of getting there. We all plotted a rough route on Martins north America map. It looked good, we all wanted to see a few places along the way, and we were sure we could do it in two weeks. We had a 22 seater bus, and with luggage, we had plenty of spare room. I decided to give a mate a ring back home, Gethin was surprised to hear my voice, I think it was early, I kept forgetting the time difference. I said we were planning an adventure, and knew he'd be up for it. I kept the prison bus a secret, I didn't want this leaking out, it would be a surprise if he decided to come. He phoned around, and I was soon told that three of my mates, Gethin, Nez, and Elwyn had booked tickets and were due in America at the end of August. We now had 8, and plenty more spare room to fill, so we started to ask some of our mates we had been working with. Alison and Iain were keen to sign up, and a quick call to Bunac to re-arrange their flight, and they were on board. I started talking to the Irish about the idea, and Paddy and Keith sounded excited, but they needed to confirm with their mates and sort out their flights. A few days later, we had the yes, and we had our 15.
We found out we needed to have insurance in order get plates for our bus. This was the next hurdle we had to cross. The telly adverts were filled with the usual annoying auto insurance this and that, but at the bottom of every single advert, in the small print was ?xcludes New Jersey?!! The laws in New Jersey had recently been re-vamped, following Sept 11th, as most of the terrorists had NJ Driving Licenses, typical!! We were left with the shoddy insurance brokers, whom most of which took one look at us and kindly showed us the exit. We were confident we would eventually get insurance, one way or another at least. The group left all the driving and legal bits up to me and Martin, as we would be the ones driving the bus. We picked up the game very quickly in the world of insurance, the first meeting we were as honest as we could be, and we got nowhere. ?ow long are you staying for? - ? few months, we're traveling - would get us a funny look and show the exit. Next, ?e're here for a year, we live and work over here - would get us a drink of water and a possible meeting. Next hurdle - ?e want to insure a prison bus - most people had to double take us on this question, shortly being asked if we were serious, and shown the door. We were running out of time and insurance places in New Jersey, I was busy at work and Martin was left to sort the insurance. His International Driving License hadn't arrived yet, and with me at work most of the time, he had to sign a few documents on my behalf, oh well, it was their fault for making the process so difficult. Finally came the day where we handed over $600 + dollars for the first quarterly installment of the insurance. We didn't care about the rest of the money, as long as we had a piece of paper that said we were covered if we crashed until we left in September.
The idea of buying a bus, getting insurance and plates sounds easy enough, and you'd think that after the hassle of getting insurance, we were on our way, you'd be wrong. Martin went direct from the insurance office to the department for transport. He was told that as long as we were using the bus for personal use, and not commercial, we wouldn't need commercial plates. The people at the DMV couldn't believe that some stupid tourists wanted to drive a bus, so they kept telling us that we needed to apply in person direct to the states head office, which was hours and hours away, and we had no way of getting there, this was not an option. A few days later, we both returned, pretended we had never been there before, and asked for plates, handed over the fee and waited, we were refused again, and came away down hearted not really knowing how to move forward.
We were the talk of the town, at work or in the clubs, someone would ask what you were up to at the end of the summer, and once you mentioned ?rison bus? you had an immediate response of ?h wow, i've heard about that, is their any room left?? It was great, we were famous in the little community, so much so when we saw prison t-shirts for sale, it became compulsory for every member of the bus to have one, and the women to have NYPD shirts. We certainly looked the part, all we needed was to get the bus legal, otherwise our fame would soon flop.
It was two days before Geth and the gang were due to arrive, I emailed some instructions on how to find Wildwood, but it shouldn't be too hard. ?et a bus t Atlantic City, then Wildwood, then head for the Maple Avenue - as easy as 123!
I had the day off work and decided to give the DMV one last shot before we looked into some other means of obtaining some plates ;). I walked in as casual as every other yank in the busy room. Up to the counter with my application form, ?ake a number and a seat sir? As I sat down waiting for the inevitable, I started thinking of our trip, and the what ifs. I was sat down for about 15mins before the call came, ?02? i headed up to the counter to greet the big black women, I was expecting the customary fuck off, but she just said $85. I stumbled as I handed over the dosh, I was shaking, does this mean we have the plates, I was too worried to ask. Then it came, the plastic bag with the papers in, and two shiny new plates. I grabbed the bag, thanked the women and ran, there was no way I was going to stop if I heard ?old on, we made a mistake? I was gone and on the bus back to Wildwood. I was so excited, this was it, the adventure was going to happen. As I arrived back I headed direct to the bar where Biggles was working, I hid the plates and tried to look depressed, but I couldn't hold back the massive smile. I had a drink and showed him the plates, we were on cloud nine, it was great, I needed to tell the others.
Martin bolted the rear plate on as I played about with the front one, they were both on, we had half a tank of fuel, and were dying to take the beast for a spin. Martin took the first go as we drove out of the yard heading towards out of town, I was riding up front in te guards seat, and Emma had jumped in and was sat back in the cage. The ride seemed smooth from a passenger point of view, we were feeling confident so we took her outta town to the next island up the coast. Crossing the toll bridge proved eventful as we convinced the old lady manning the booth that we were from a local nut house school on a day trip, it worked and we got over for a dollar. I took over the controls and had my first real chance of seeing what this beast was like to drive. I've never driven a tank, but I'm pretty sure its a similar experience! We returned back to Wildwood and thought we'd take everyone shopping to the local supermarket, having spent all summer lugging heavy bags of beer back most days, it was a pleasant change. I pulled up outside the hostel where the Irish were staying, there wasn't a horn on the bus, but it didn't matter, they had heard us coming down the road and the entire hostel were outside seeing what this thing coming down the road was. Everyone pilled on and we headed out to the shops to stock up on beer and food.
An entire summer to buy this bus, get insurance and plates, and it had all come together the day before Geth and Co were due to arrive. I just hope they didn't get lost coming here, especially as I was working all day and wouldn't be around to meet them. It was early evening when Biggles came to find me on the pier with Geth, Nez and Elmo in tow. It was good to see them, and despite being busy, we had a good long chat about the up-coming adventure. They helped themselves to a few theme park tickets (which I must have found on the floor!) and took in a few rides before heading back and getting ready for the classic Wildwood night out on the town. The workers had mastered the art of working late, then getting back, change into a shirt and neck a few rum and cokes before heading out for the dollar drinks. It never felt weird, being in another country, so much of which I had always wanted to see, but whenever I wasn't working, I was drinking or getting bits sorted for the bus.
The entire tourist community, as well as the native folks (most of whom had never left the state), were jealous of our planned trip. It felt really good, our summer of work was just about over, and our road trip was about to begin. Every Morey's Piers employee had to work on labour day in order to qualify for the bonus scheme. I had gotten my section manager out of a lot of shit over the last few weeks, so I came to an agreement with her that I would work for 30mins, then I was off! She was happy, I was happy, all the other staff were pissed off with me, that made me even more happy, I always enjoy pissing people off. After getting back home and meeting the others, we headed out for a wander around the piers and the town for the last time. Took a ride on the Nor Easter roller coaster with the harness open, which is always a laugh. It feels scary, but the ride is designed to hold you in the seat, plus I held on tight too I'm sure I was safe! The rest headed back, but me and Nez stopped off to see Elaine at the log flume. She was pissed off having to work the last day, so had devised a cunning plan. With $5, and a little of our own money, me and Nez brought 4 large bottles of car wash from a local crappy store. Back to the log flume, we took a ride and emptied the contents whilst in the tunnel. Bout 10mins later, the managers were gathering to see the results of our handy work, bubbles galore. Elaine was impressed, and promised us a drink later that night.
The last night had come, labour day in America, more exciting that independence Day, as we had finished work and were free! All 15 members of the prison tour changed into our uniforms for the last night out, 12 of us in prison convict t-shirts, and 3 girls wearing NYPD t-shirts. We looked the part as we all met at the Irish's gaff for some pre-drinking. A messy night was to follow as we drank and drank and then headed to the club, the pictures tell the story from here!!
Written by Richard Smith
