Tuesday August 22, 1978 (approximately 10:30 pm) Binghamton, N.Y.

The bus is bumping and I can hardly write. I am also high, and therefore can hardly write. D'Arcy just finished off all of the provisions - only about 3 hours into a 25 hour trip.
One of the packages his grandmother made was cookies wrapped in a plastic bag in a cardboard box, which (interruption: D'Arcy just proposed that I write about French people riding elephants down the streets of London on Halloween in 1803 - with everyone screaming something to the effect of Napoleon Bonaparte being an asshole, selling Louisiana to Thomas Jefferson...) was taped and in a bag which was taped and tied. It nearly blew his mind. He was also high.
(Another interruption? No, he's not ready. "Not on the right plane" as Russell would say.)
D'Arcy's grandmother made these huge cookies that looked like huge biscuits. She gave us each a cheese sandwich. When she asked us what we wanted on our sandwiches, D'Arcy told her he wanted mayonnaise and I wanted mustard. I don't like mustard on cheese, so I figured he knew that I didn't want a sandwich, so he ordered one of each, for himself. That way his grandmother wouldn't worry about me starving. When he mentioned in the bus station about us munching down on the bus, I told him that I didn't want a sandwich. "You don't want a sandwich?" he asked. I told him again that I didn't want a sandwich. "Well, why did you get mustard, then? I don't like mustard. That means a whole sandwich is going to be wasted." He ate his sandwich. Later, still hungry (he's always hungry) he decided to try to eat the mustard sandwich. Well, upon inspection, he discovers that it's the mayo sandwich and he had already eaten the mustard one without even noticing. I said "See, both sandwiches were intended for you."
Our first bus driver said, over the PA, after we had been on the road for a while, "How about you gentlemen put away that pot or get off the bus." Now, at that point, we weren't high. There was one guy in the back with us who was high. He was a Cornell student. Scored 1400 on his SATs and was a linebacker on the football team. The driver repeated his warning several times, so D'Arcy, who had been smoking some foreign cigarettes - Sher Bidis - took the pack up to him and said that maybe this is what he had been smelling. He came back to his seat and we each fired up a Sher Bidi.
The driver repeated his announcement.
We got off at Binghamton and smoked a joint on the street corner with the guy from Cornell. When we transferred to the second bus, the new driver said to us, "You're not the guys that have been smoking pot, are you?"
"No sir!"
As the bus was pulling out, the driver said,"No smoking of pipes, cigars or POT, in the restricted seats." A roar of unbelieving laughter erupted among us three. Our notoriety had proceeded us.