If you've been living under a rock for the past couple of days, or if you've been out of the country, there was an incident on a Greyhound bus, on its way from Edmonton to Winnipeg, in which some dude's head fell off.
(Mind you, it didn't fall off on its own; some crazy guy helped it get that way by "cutting the guy's head off and pretty much gutting him up," according to a fellow passenger.)
Now, this would be a disturbing enough story if I was sticking with my normal mode of transportation for the forseeable future: namely, getting carted around on one of those "sedan chairs" by four scantily-clad nubile young women, but not so young as to invite police scrutiny. Really, it's the only way to travel.
However, next week I'm going out to Edmonton to hang out with a few people I haven't seen in a while, then in order to get to a workshop in Saskatoon I'm TAKING THE GREYHOUND EASTWARD FROM EDMONTON. In case you didn't read the top of this post, a bus recently left Edmonton going east, and the number of heads that made the trip attached to their respective bodies did not exactly match the number of total heads on said trip.
Needless to say, my trepidation about bus transportation has grown by leaps and bounds over the past couple of days. Oh, I saw a thing on the CBC tonight wherein a Greyhound spokesperson assured us they have a "zero-tolerance policy" about unruly passengers. But I bet that policy hasn't just come into effect in the past 48 hours; I bet it was there before Slashy McHacksalot treated some unsuspecting passenger like a side of beef at a butcher shop.
So, if I suddenly stop writing on here for an extended period of time...