August 17th, 8:11 a.m.
Orlando, Florida, Part III

Whoa. The bus leaves again in a few minutes. I’m very, very sick to my stomach. It’s totally rumbling from downing the gift platter (and probably from not sleeping very much forever, you know?). My calf muscles are bubbly. It’s like there are little mice underneath my skin running up and down from my knees to my ankles. Trembly.

The last bus I was on had rainbow stripes running down the center of the seats and it smelled like somebody had been cooking bacon. So, so sick.

This is the second to last bus, though. This should just about do it. I just texted Tovi and told her I’d be in Fort Myers in a short six hours.

Man, I think I could fly from Madison to Fort Myers twice in that time. How did this happen?

Karpinski, Cody, and Reese keep texting me too. Kirk Johnson couldn’t stay behind his blockers in practice yesterday. The offense is all off. What if I can’t get back in time for the game Friday? What if there are more power outages and crap? Roy Ngelale will beat us for sure.

I hate this.

There are about twenty people going on this bus. I hope I can get a seat by myself.

Oh, Renee. You are gone.

I really miss her. I hope she’s okay.

Oh, look: Disney posters.

Normal kids go to Disney World.

Andrew and I take days-long Greyhound bus rides.