This Was a Nightmare on Wheels – Shame on You, Greyhound

I have no words. Actually, I do — and they’re not kind. My journey with Greyhound from Cape Town to Bloemfontein was like something out of a horror film. Not the fun kind. The trapped-and-slowly-losing-your-sanity kind.

Let’s start with the bus itself. Filthy doesn’t even cover it. Naartjie peels, empty wrappers, and general grime were everywhere. I felt like I was stepping onto a neglected public bin, not a long-distance travel coach. I asked if I could sit downstairs — politely — and was met with a blunt, dismissive “No.” No reason, no explanation, just “No.” The tone? Rude and uninterested.

But here’s where it gets absurd.

When I boarded at Bellville, the same woman who barked “no” without explanation came upstairs. The moment she felt the heat and heard the complaints, her reaction was telling. She could not get off that bus fast enough. Her words? “The heat in the bus is crazy, I need to get off.” And off she went, back into the fresh air, while we, the paying passengers, were left to suffer in that hellish oven for hours.

Let me be clear: this was not just "a little warm." It was boiling inside. In the middle of winter. Breathing was difficult. People were in short sleeves and still visibly sweating. Condensation was pouring down the windows. It started to smell. Like sweat, stale air, and discomfort. I had water dripping on me the entire trip from the roof. Yes — a constant drip of who-knows-what landing on me while I tried, and failed, to find some rest.

I am sweating as I write this. No human being can rest in this kind of sticky, unbearable heat. This is how people get sick.

Greyhound, this is not acceptable. This is a health hazard. For the prices you charge, passengers deserve basic human comfort, cleanliness, and respect — not a mobile sauna from hell.

You should be ashamed.