You never truly know someone until you've walked a mile in their shoes..

Well I say, you can never really know America until you've travelled a mile in a Greyhound Bus.....or 1153 miles to be exact.

There was an alcoholic father and son who liked to walk up and down the bus even though they were so drunk they couldn't stand and couldn't remember which seat they were in even though there were no other free seats on the bus apart from the ones they had just got up from.

Mullets.

People that take up more than their fair half of a double seat.

About one good tooth between the whole bus.

People that smell like piss; or more accurately, people who smell like piss died on them and it's now rotting on them.

There was a man who had all his belongings wrapped in a little bundle clutched to his chest who also had an open pussing wound the size of his whole cheek on his face that he tried to keep covered with a dirty rag.

Then there was an old black lady, she must have been about 60 odd, she managed to sneak her way onto the bus. I think she was a tramp and had just wanted somewhere warm to sleep. Someone told the bus driver at the next stop and he literally dragged her off and just left her at this garage we had stopped at. She could barely walk and said she hadn't slept for two days.

All you hear about America when you're abroad is about the American Dream, the American Way of Life, the prosperity, but it didn't happen for these people.

They asked me if I was a movie star, they said I looked like I was a movie star travelling incognito. They said I didn't belong on their bus.

In this giant expanse of land they call the United States of America it is very easy to be forgotten. No one wants to know about these people. No one wants to ride their bus.