Unescorted Prisoners Take the Bus -- Or Do They?

Have a look at this article, and come back when you're finished...

http://www.parade.com/news/intelligence-report/archive/unescorted-prisoners-take-the-bus.html

Recently, there has been an alarmist article that has been making the print media and the Internet. The claim is, The Federal Bureau of Prisons is permitting convicts to transfer themselves between facilities. The journalist credited for the story is J. Scott Orr. While the article is compelling, it blurs the facts.

Badly.

"Thanks to a little-known policy at the federal Bureau of Prisons (BOP), the guy sitting next to you on the bus could be a convicted felon. As part of a cost-cutting program, the BOP allows more than 25,000 prisoners each year to ride unescorted and unannounced between federal correctional facilities. At least 50 have escaped, including a drug dealer who is now considered armed and dangerous."

True and false. For many years now, prisoners being released from Federal and State Corrections facilities have been afforded transportaion home -- usually, this means a (non-refundable) Greyhound ticket. Unless the inmate has been declared not guilty in the court system, most detainees fall under parole directives, meaning that while they have cleared the corrections facility (release), they may be required to report to a group home, halfway house, or work facility. This is a non-secure place that is where a released inmate reports per conditions of parole. A transition house, not a lock-up.

"Traci Billingsley, a BOP spokeswoman, says that almost all of the inmates are traveling to halfway houses where they will come into contact with the public anyway. She adds that the other 6% of inmates are traveling to minimum-security facilities, most of which don’t even have fences. Prisoners who will travel alone are screened to make sure they 'pose no significant risk.'"

If you read that carefully, Ms. Billingsley wasn't directly quoted. It's easy to blur the line between what is percieved to be a "minimum-security facility" and residential re-entry centers (RRCs), also known as halfway houses, to provide assistance to inmates who are up for release. A prisoner in the system can be transfered between facilities, but BOP and ACA policy would never, ever just hand the detainee his property and records and a ticket and say, "Go to FCI Pekin", or "report to USP Tucson." These transfers are done on unannounced prison transports (secure prison planes and buses). These are always done under security and the general public rarely if ever come in contact with these transports.

In case you weren't aware, I'm a transport officer and training officer with BOP. To be assigned to a transport position, one must recieve many hours of security training including protocol, use of restraints, and weapons training. On duty, between facilities, I carry a loaded 9mm automatic pistol. Prisoners are taken from one secure facility to the other most often via the The Federal Transfer Center (FTC) in Oklahoma City in restraints.

When I left Greyhound, I took a position delivering and testing buses (professional driver, closed course). Then, looking for work closer to home, I was recruited to drive for the bureau.

Back to convicts-at-large; People freak easily over this. I've seen messages on message boards here on the 'net about released inmates that were traveling by line haul carriers like The 'Hound. In all my years of "flogging the dog" (driving for The 'Hound), the released inmates were usually my best behaved passengers. They are parolees now. They want to go home and get on with their lives. The absolute LAST thing most of these men and women want to do is violate their parole upon relaese for fear of being re-arrested. Understandably, most are on guard and don't want to answer a lot of questions about what they locked up for. Truth be told, they aren't all murderers and rapists.

I've discussed my position on some other message boards and groups. I should save my breath. I've met much opposition by (so-called) "industry experts" that are hell-bent on telling me I'm full of it. Industry experts that have never driven a motorcoach, never riden a motorcoach, never worked in a lock-up, nor have ever been locked up. Industry experts that their major claim to fame is living at home with their parents, logging onto the Internet in the morning, and staying on-line until late at night. They know all about Greyhound, more than I ever will. They know the buses, the routes, the ticketing, company policies, and hiring practices chapter and verse.

Too bad they never cashed a Greyhound paycheck.

As ever I remain,

The Greyhounder

What We've Learnt From Hollywood [off topic]

Hello couch potatoes!

When you think of it, there really aren't a lot of bus movies out there (anyone care to name five?). When you DO see a bus featured in a movie, the passengers are cramped, crowded, miserable, and the driver is either detached, or a son-of-a-bitch to deal with. Or, the bus is going to crash (spectacularly), or get blown up.

Yay.

Okay movie fans (small screen applies here too), here's what we've learnt from Hollywood:
(Pay attention)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. Large, loft-style apartments in New York City are well within the price range of most people whether they are employed or not.

2. At least one in a pair of identical twins is born evil.

3. Should you decide to defuse a bomb, don't worry which wire to cut. You will always choose the right one.

4. Most laptop computers are powerful enough to override the communications system of any invading intergalactic alien society.

5. It doesn't matter if you are heavily outnumbered in a fight involving martial arts. Your enemies will all wait patiently and politely to attack you one by one, dancing around in a threatening manner until you have knocked out their predecessors.

6. When you turn out the light to go to bed, everything in your bedroom will still be clearly visible, just a bit bluish.

7. If you are blonde and pretty, it is possible to become a world expert on nuclear fission at the age of 22.

8. Honest and hard working policemen are traditionally gunned down three days before their retirement.

9. Rather than wasting bullets, megalomaniacs prefer to kill their archenemies using complicated machinery involving fuses, pulley systems, deadly gasses, lasers, and man-eating sharks, which will allow their captives at least 20 minutes to escape.

10. During all police investigations, it will be necessary to visit a strip club at least once.

11. All beds have special L-shaped cover sheets that reach up to the armpit level on a woman... but only to waist level on the man lying beside her.

12. All grocery shopping bags contain at least one stick of French bread.

13. It's easy for anyone to land a plane providing there is someone in the control tower to talk you down.

14. Once applied, lipstick will never rub off, even while scuba diving.

15. You're very likely to survive any battle in any war unless you make the mistake of showing someone a picture of your sweetheart back home.

16. Should you wish to pass yourself off as a German or Russian officer, it will not be necessary to speak the language. A German or Russian accent will do. (It used to be an English accent for the German.)

17. The Eiffel Tower can be seen from any window in Paris.

18. A man will show no pain while taking the most ferocious beating, but will wince when a woman tries to clean his wounds.

19. If a large pane of glass is visible, someone will be thrown through it before long.

20. If staying in a haunted house, women should investigate any strange noises in their most revealing underwear.

21. Word processors never display a cursor on screen, but will always say: Enter Password Now.

22. Even when driving down a perfectly straight road, it is necessary to turn the steering wheel vigorously from left to right every few moments. (And don't forget - tyres will squeal on any surface, at any speed).

23. All bombs are conveniently fitted with electronic timing devices with large red readouts, so you know exactly when they're going to go off.

24. A detective can only solve a case once he has been suspended from duty on orders from the Mayor.

25. If you decide to start dancing in the street, everyone you meet will know all the steps.
(This is now especially true in India!)

26. Police departments give their officers personality tests to make sure they are deliberately assigned a partner who is their total opposite.

27. When they are alone, all foreign military officers prefer to speak to each other in English.

28. When paying a bill or a taxi fare you never have to wait for change.

29. No matter how busy the traffic, you will always find a parking spot outside the place you're headed.

30. If you and your friends are in a cabin in the woods in the dead of night and there's a maniac loose outside, always venture out one at a time to investigate any noise.

A Women Weighs In On Why It Takes So Long In The Bathroom

Greyhounder, this is what takes us so long in the bathroom:

After hours on the bus, you pull off into the rest stop/travel plaza. In either case, it's a public bathroom. Not much better than the doo doo closet in the back of the bus, but you pick your battles.

So, here I am. You usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied. Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about piss your pants!

The dispenser for the modern "seatcovers" (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but typically empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume "The Stance." In this position your aging, tired, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance." To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was notoilet paper!" Your thighs shake more.You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the dreaded TOILETSEAT. It is wet of course.

You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late.Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get."

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back ofthe toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a finemist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear ofbeing dragged in too.

At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting. You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this."As you exit, you spot the bus driver, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom and bought a round of drinks for all the guys onboard. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?"

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with public restrooms/reststops (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men whatreally does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No, I didn't write this. You'll agree, this HAD to be written by a woman!
No one else could describe it so accurately!

Greyhound Humor

A Greyhound driver comes home, off the road from work, sits down in his favorite chair, turns on the TV, and says to his wife, “Quick, bring me a beer before it starts.”

She’s puzzled but goes and gets him a beer anyway. Our guy quickly downs the beer and says, “Quick, bring me another cold one. It’s about to start.”

His wife huffs a little but still gets him another beer.

"One more before it starts!” the husband yells out after finishing off the second can.

“That’s it!” his wife screams. “I cook and clean and wash and iron all week long. Then you waltz in here, flop your fat ass down, and expect me to run around like your slave! If you think that’s how it works, you’ve got another think coming!”

“Damn,” mutters the husband. “It started.”

Greyhound Boot Camp

Yes. There is such a thing...

or, there used to be.

These days, Greyhound driver candidates get most of their primary training from a computer program. Yes, there is some hands-on (later), but first, you take an on-line course with several modules. I never understood the logic of this, and I still don't like it. On a computer, even in the video vignettes, buses are clean and defect free, the drivers are sharp and crisp, passengers are smiling and content, the eighteen wheeler your bus is passing is doing the speed limit and not drifting into your lane, the road is perfectly paved and skies are blue...

It's not the real world.

All this new training comes before you even see a Driver Training School (or DTS). When I started, if you passed muster, you went straight to Driver Training School. Four weeks of hell. There were several back in the mid- 1990s, Richmond, Chicago, Dallas, Miami, and Reno. I went to the school in Reno.

There were eight of us from Albuquerque that went to DTS. Seven of us returned, and five plugged the board (plugging the board is when you have sucessfully qualified as a driver and are officailly placed on the roster and the payroll). All told, 100 candidates came to school in the Western Division. Less than 50 completed the training. 32 plugged the board. That's pretty average. Many think they want to try the job, later to find out the lifestyle is not for them. Others simply want to get a CDL license and learn how to drive a bus. Then, there are some...only God knows why they were there.

"As a Student you experience an intense four weeks of classroom instruction and behind-the-wheel training at one of our national training locations.

Greyhound provides transportation, room accommodations, meals (breakfast and lunch), professional instructors and a per day stipend.

You will arrive on a Sunday. Classes begin on Monday morning. As a top performer you will pass a closed skills course, complete all classroom assignments, demonstrate proficiency on driver logs, display excellent customer service skills and prove your abilities on the open road. You log over 40-hours of driving time and successfully meet these challenges with an attitude of professionalism in both behavior and dress.

Greyhound is looking for the best. The best progress to Finishing School!"

So, on a early Monday morning (I'm sorry - 7:30 AM is early to me), about 100 of us shuffled into a makeshift classroom that had once upon a timetable been a large cafeteria and were instructed to take a seat and not touch anything on our desks. Each desk had several forms and policies (face down), along with two course books. Several driver instructors stood stone-faced around the room. At 8 AM, the fun started. The head instructor introduced himself and nodded towards the other instructors. About twenty students were fingered and asked to leave the room. We would never see them again. They committed the unforgivable sin of not following instruction. The other driver instructors wached silently as they fingered the material on their desk that they were told NOT to touch. The process of elimination is a cruel mistress. 20 down, more to go.

The head instructor introduced himself, a larger-than-life Okie named Gary. Gary was a likable person to begin with, but over my years of driving Greyhound, he became a real bastard. I'm sure he was a joy to live with, and perhaps ther was a huge sigh of relief whenever he left home to go on the road. Gary taught classroom. The best way to get through Gary's class was to be visible, but silent, nod on occasion, and realize that if Gary gave you a ten minute break, it meant ten minutes.

The course was divided into two halves. Half of the class did classroom, while the other half went out on the range. One day, you'd be in class, the next, you were out driving or doing hands-on with the actual bus. 26 buses were pulled from service to be training buses. The number dwindled over time. Students practiced in pairs under the watchful eye of an instructor. Over time, training started in a closed parking lot at the local fairgrounds, and progressed to the streets of Sparks, NV and stretches of I-80 nearby. A time-honored ritual at the Rno Driving School was to make the students drive out to the old Mustang Ranch and drive circles around the parking lot until some of the 'working girls' came out and waved. I'm sure the people running the brothel tired of this, but tollerated it every few weeks. Oh, did I mention that mostly all the driver trainers were men? We had one female driver trainer, and I think her perpetual role was mother hen to any other female driving students (our class had 10, maybe). Otherwise, it was a "boys club". Greyhound was, is and will always be a "boys club".

When I went through training, it was right after the nastiest strike that Greyhound ever suffered. Four years, and even then, much never got resolved until 1995/96. Much of the discussion during class and out on the range was about the strike...who came back, who got killed (yes, people died -- got shot or run over by buses), who didn't come back, and who the scabs are. Greyhound hired many replacements during the strike. Ideally, those replacements would have left after the strike. Sadly, not only did they stay on, but they gained seniority! At Greyhound, seniority is a valuable commodity. We were all urged to join the union. Few didn't. More students were dropped from the program (guess why). Not only did I sign up and get a working card, a year and a half in, I was the local union rep.

I'm no fool.

Four weeks of learning space/time distance, hand over hand steering, tickets, baggage handling, driver's logs, tally cards, ticket envelopes, dispatch, pretrips, post trips, brake tests, and countless other ins and outs, less than 50 of us graduated out of Reno DTS.

Or should I say boot camp?

The adventure starts...

The Greyhounder

Things I've Learned From Driving A Greyhound Bus

My driving career at Greyhound spans about 10 years, and no one does anything that long without picking up some useless knowledge along the way. Here are just a few of the nuggets of wisdom I've acquired. Hopefully, these tidbits can help you along the way. Enjoy!

1. If you are the driver of the bus, it was your fault. You should have known better.
(Some people assume that all decisions of Greyhound Lines, Inc. are that of the bus driver.)

2. "How about if I just call your bosses in Dallas?" is the last ditch effort of a liar or bullshit artist.
(Yeahright. The suits in Dallas are really interested in my bus here in Hooterville.)

3. Sitting in the first row seats give the passenger the devine right to play co-pilot.
(Nevermind that I've run this route so many times I can do it in my sleep -- and often do.)

4. "I spend a ton of money with Greyhound!" really means: "I bought a bus ticket...once...4 years ago."
(This is benine next to the malignant, "I pay your salary!" That'll get you tossed off any bus.)

5. Passengers that claim they get car sickness need to sit in the first row of seats.
(Bullshit. Like I really need to sit across of a potential vomit monkey. It's a medical fact that sitting in a front row seat promotes and stimulates car sickness. Sit in the back, next to the doo doo room!)

6. Passengers claim they need to sit in the front row seats to keep you (the driver) awake.
(Again, I've most likely chosen this schedule because I like to do this stretch at night. AND, I've done it several times already without a major mishap. Find a seat in the back and go to sleep!)

7. The old-timer driver you bent over backwards to help out is screwing you over.
(Two buses on the same schedule, and he wants you to do all the work and make all of the stops while he cruises non-stop with five people onboard.)

8. "Are we there yet?" is apparently the funniest joke bus passengers have ever heard.
(I'm not deaf. I'm ignoring you. Now that's funny.)

9. "I don't mean to be a pain..." really means: "I'm too stupid to listen to your announcement when you pulled out of the depot, and all that travel and connection information certainly didn't apply to me."
(No cupcake. I should have waited until you finished your loud cellphone call.)

10. The Top Three Responsibilities of a Professional Greyhound Driver:
*1. Drive
*2. Not hit anything -- or anybody (including passengers)
*3. Babysit the confused old people dropped off at the bus station by their irresponsible, inconsiderate adult children.

11. Buying $7 SuperSaver ticket gives the passengerer the right to treat the bus driver like their own personal bitch.

12. Reclining seats break because they are poorly constructed, not because the idiot sitting in it is trying to make it their own personal cot.

13. Eleven-year-old Timmy, who lives in Podunk Heights, knows more about Greyhound Lines policy and procedure than the guy that has been driving the bus since before Timmy was born.

14. Cheap luggage should be able to withstand a nuclear explosion.

15. Central Dispatch in Dallas knows all and sees all...and, the decision of dispatch is final!
(I am The Great and Powerful Oz...)

16. The public restroom on the bus can easily be mistaken for a private smoking lounge.
(The last driver let me smoke in here!)

17. Tattling on me to the 16 year-old customer service agent will always result in my kissing your ass and letting you do what you want to do on my bus...and, apologizing for my actions.
(I was driving the bus when little miss bus station manager was in utero. Fuck you. Fuck BOTH of you.)

And finally....

18. A closed mouth gathers no foot.
(This goes BOTH ways. There are some questions that require no answer from me, the driver, and there are times when I, the driver doesn't need hecklers -- or cute remarks from the passengers. And yes, I can put you off this bus.)

I hope you all took something away from this. It would be a shame to find out that all of this is useless information that will never further benefit myself or the riding public.

The Greyhounder

GENISIS (The First Post)

Welcome aboard.

This is Greyhound schedule 0519. Through service of my time at Greyhound Lines, "Flogging The Dog" (that's driving the bus to the rest of you).

Our timeline starts somewhere around the Spring of 1997, and goes through 2007 (maybe a little further -- we have connecting service). You'll get to hear my thoughts, rants, raves, and meet some of the colorful characters that I used to work with.

The coach is restroom equipped. It's in the small closet-like room to the rear of the coach and to the right. Please remember to lock the door behind yourself and close both lids when done. Smoking is not permitted on the coach, and that does include the restroom. If you are moving about the coach, please hold on. Use the handhold built in to the overhrad luggage rack, or the seat tops. There is a 30 minute break somewhere between here and there. That's 30 minutes, unless you're a believer in the hereafter...that meaning, if you need more than 30 minutes for a break, you'll be here -- after we're gone.

Sit back, relax, enjoy the ride. Thank you for going Greyhound.
Have a safe and pleasant trip.

The Greyhounder