A long ride on a Grey Hound trip could crush the brightness of spirits.
Jammed near the bathroom in the back of the bus after an eighteen-hour ride was no fun.
As Alice arrives at the city Grey Hound Terminal, she was an open target for sympathy and Deceit. Alice was a young twenty-one-year-old who was leaving the South for the first time in her life. With only the sixty-five dollars in her pocket, which her grandmother had given to her for the trip. She was not prepared for what the city had in store, so you may think.
Now, Alice was no angel. She had worked in the back-easy in her county, back home.
She knew her way around. Ask her and she would tell you that since she was Fifteen and a half, she was more than prepared to deal with the talk, the walk, the scandals, and oh yeah, the slick men conveying their means to get close, real close with Alice. Though some did between then, and now, Alice maintains that she always left the situation wiser than when she came in. No matter if it was a one-night stand or the year she spent with Duce Man Jack, Alice was no pushover.
Alice was no little girl; let's just say she was an 8 waiting to be a 10. But to get those extra points, you have to scrape a little wear and tear off the top. She would have to substitute spit for polish, and you would have to expand her vocabulary from the use of so many four-letter words. But if you did, um, ain't nobody got nothing on this girl.
