Travel by Greyhound has consistently provided me some of the most unique experiences of a lifetime. My catalog of bizarre bus trips is long and varied, and I don't think I've ever had a two-way journey in which at least one of the legs wasn't overly complicated and odd.

Yesterday was no exception. It began when my sisters and I arrived at the bus terminal in Rochester, NY, for my journey to Toronto. An SUV marked US Border Patrol was parked outside the station, and as we sat inside waiting, two border control officers walked in, resplendent in army green suits and intimidating sunglasses. When the time came to board the bus, I was one of the last because of saying goodbye to my sisters. When I finally tried to board, a Border Patrol officer was blocking the aisle. "You'll have to wait," he barked, and when I said "OK" and stepped back, he clarified: "No, outside."

I disembarked and joined a group consisting of the jocular driver, a baggage handler, and a smoking black-clad Goth girl with a Jersey accent and shaved and tattooed eyebrows that arched in a bold blue swoop across her forehead. As we waited, one of the border patrol officers escorted a dreadlocked guy off the bus and made him retrieve his baggage: for whatever reason, he wasn't going to be allowed to continue his journey.

My friend Lynette and I went out the other night for a drink. We were happily strolling along a downtown street, catching up on the news from the two years since we've seen each other, when we came across a very busy scene.

Heavy cables were strung across the sidewalk and big lights were set up at strategic points. A firetruck was parked by the curb with its lights flashing, and the sidewalk was blocked. We had to navigate around the firetruck and cross the street to continue on our way.

As we did so, we gasped in astonishment. Parked on the other side of the firetruck, on the corner of a major intersection, was the blackened hulk of a burned-out bus. The body and even the frame had been blown apart and the windows were gone. Most of the bus was open to the sky. It looked as if it had been bombed. "Road closed" signs and barriers blocked the street and a policeman was directing traffic.

I have had a very strange life. Occasionally I get into bizarre adventures that remind me of how weird my life is, and last night was one of them.

I decided to go out for a walk. Nice and normal enough. It was a lovely evening, a bit cool with a tiny mist peppering down, but warm enough once you got going at a brisk walk.

I'd been cooped inside all day packing, so I decided to go for a longish stroll of about five miles. I swung along, my thoughts pleasantly rambling, until I came toward a T junction in a residential neighbourhood. The headlights of a car behind me picked out a small dark animal running rather frantically back and forth at the end of the intersection, looking as if it was in some distress.

Alarmed, I picked up my pace. Perhaps it was a lost cat that needed help. When I crossed the intersection, however, the animal was nowhere to be found. Assuming it had vanished into the adjoining park, I gave up and walked on. Probably it was simply a neighbourhood cat out for an evening prowl.

Tonight as I was on my cooldown walk from a few miles' run, on a fairly deserted back road near home a car drove past slowly with the window down, the baseball-hatted male driver leaning out the window to make kissing sounds. Very annoying, but nothing that hasn't happened before. However, a few minutes later I heard a car and saw its headlights as it drove up behind me. For some reason, I thought it might be him again, and sure enough, it was. He'd pulled around the loop to drive past me again.

Last night I left the house to go out. My landlady was hosting a scrapbooking workshop, which meant that the driveway was filled up with the vehicles of women who'd come to scrapbook. It's a bit complicated to explain, but normally from where I park, I'd reverse into one of two spaces and continue forward down the driveway, which is winding and very steep.

Me, at home group, highly amused to see our hostess putting out teabags in pink wrappers titled "Pregnancy Tea" and "Mother-to-be Tea":

"Why are you putting out your pregnancy tea?"

Hostess, the only pregnant one there: "Well, SOMEBODY might want it."

I LOL'd.