I've been traveling for as long as I can remember, so I'm accustomed to the many complications that can arise, especially in the throes of the holiday season. Planes get delayed, flights get canceled, and without fail, your Greyhound will be late.

I've been riding Greyhound for years, mainly because they have as close to a monopoly on the transportation game as they can get. Their service is reliably terrible. No, seriously, ask anyone and they'll rant about a bad greyhound experience. Unless they're more introverted, then they might smile and nod in agreement. The real surprise are the few good stories, like gems in the rough. Today, I'm sharing one that's a little of both.

This was my 2016 holiday Greyhound experience:

I arrived about 15 minutes before my 8 a.m. departure from the Bellingham, Washington, station with a total of about five hours of sleep over the course of 48 hours. The bus pulled into the station on time, which was a relief. As a rule, Greyhound is always 30 minutes late (unless you're the late party, in which case, it's always right on time). The driver, a somewhat brisk and grouchy man, promptly informed us that there wasn't enough space on his bus for all the passengers. This, of course, blackened my already dark mood. He placated us with the news that another bus would be along shortly to share the load. All this information trickled down the line, like a game of telephone, because that's how it works with Greyhound. Tell the people at the front, and the rest will figure it out.

Pro Tip: Always ask that question. Any question you're thinking, ask it or get left behind.

It was 8:45 before either bus left the Bellingham station. Like I said, reliably late. I slept through the hour drive to the Everett bus depot, and then waited the 15-20 minutes outside in the cold (the Greyhound desk attendant inside the building doesn't let you know when a bus arrives or leaves, late or on time) for my connecting bus to Wenatchee.

The second bus driver was even more brisk and downright unfriendly. He made it seem like calling for help on how to unlock the lavatory door (for a four-and-a-half-hour trip, optimistically) was some huge inconvenience. The poor little old lady I sat next to would have piddled her pants had he not dealt with the problem before leaving. Normally, when a Greyhound bus loads new travelers, the bus driver will give a “Welcome to Greyhound, here's the plan” speech that will sometimes include updates on travel conditions or some mention of the time schedule and expectations. This guy didn't do any of that, nor did he make any kind of announcement when we ran into unexpected traffic that delayed us nearly two hours. It was a car wreck near the top of Steven's Pass, for those wondering. At least that's what I deduced from my bus-window view.

After Christmas, I geared up for Greyhound round 2. It hit me like a train wreck out of the 1980s. There were three buses lined up and a mob of unorganized people. I played the Greyhound telephone game to figure out which bus was headed my direction, and my driver looked like he'd stepped out of time. He took tickets and loaded bags right next to the open bus door with a cigarette hanging between his lips. Now, I might be living in a liberal bubble, but wasn't smoking next to a bus door outlawed at least 15 years ago? He was also another one of those drivers who had decided announcements were for try-hards, so we went over the blizzard-like pass and pulled into the God-forsaken Everett bus depot about 20 minutes past the time my connecting bus was scheduled to head north. I've spent too many hours stuck in the Everett bus station over the years.

Immediately after the driver unloaded my suitcase, I headed for the Greyhound desk inside the station, knowing full well no one would be manning the desk. I think I waited about five minutes before an overweight, over-privileged tool bumbled out and looked at me like I was the pain in his ass. He answered my questions without taking the time to check anything in the computer. He told me yes, the 3:45 to Bellingham had left already. And then yes, there was another bus at 5:40. Yes, my ticket would work just fine and I would have a seat. No referencing, just annoyed answers to get me to leave. I know Greyhound has low standards, but come on! Open disdain for stranded travelers should be unacceptable.

I went outside 20 minutes before the 5:40 was supposed to arrive, and when it did arrive around 6:10 (reliably late), there weren't enough seats for all the stranded stragglers and the originally scheduled passengers. At this point, I was extremely and openly frustrated, though I apologized to the driver, letting him know that I knew it wasn't his fault. However, this driver was an absolute doll. He understood my frustration and even joked about it to someone else who was asking unnecessary questions. He fought for us, calling the Greyhound dispatch and trying to get the few of us remaining a cab ride so we wouldn't have to wait longer -- but the company decided differently.

The driver loaded any travelers destined for Mt. Vernon, drove the half-hour north, dropped off ALL his Mt. Vernon passengers and then drove that 30 minutes back south to pick up the last three of us left in Everett. I wasn't home until five hours after I was supposed to get back into Bellingham. Nonetheless, when that last bus driver handed me my suitcase, I handed him my full-size gourmet chocolate bar, because it's really the extra effort that has to be rewarded. This was a man who deserved to have his effort be recognized, especially when working for a company that doesn't really care that much. The bar was dark chocolate, mango and coconut, and I was really excited to taste it. But I'm happy he has it, and I hope that he enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed being treated like a person instead of a cow.

Traveling in America really needs to step up its game.