Somewhere between New York City and Syracuse University, Sunday night:

8:06 – I am writing to you right now as I attempt to sleep on a Greyhound bus back to school after spending the long weekend with friends in the Big Apple.

In front of me, my buddy Neph is sitting next to his girlfriend, who is coming back with us to SU. They hardly see each other, so they’re making the most of their time together with PDA that would make Paris Hilton squirm. On the bright side, they’re being very quiet, so if I close my eyes I can ignore them.

To my left, my roommate Abram is sleeping so heavily in a position so unorthodox that the people around me honestly think I dragged his dead body onto the bus and stuffed him head-first into a seat. Don’t worry – he’s snoring, so we know he’s alive. Though it definitely still smells like something died in here. I’m afraid to go into the bathroom.

To my right, my friends Josh and Shelly are watching a movie on Josh’s laptop. It looks like it might be pretty good – wait, no. It has Patrick Dempsey. Oh well. At least they have headphones on.

Actually, the bus is pretty much silent. It’s also dark out, the lights are off and I was up all last night. There are only two passengers talking, and most of the bus can’t even hear them.

Perfect time for a little shut-eye, right?

Wrong. Directly behind me, the two aforementioned passengers are having an impassioned conversation on all-things-overly-personal-that-shouldn’t-be-discussed-in-public. Unbeknownst to them, they have an audience of one. And he has his unconscious roommate’s laptop.

8:15 – From what I can gather, the talkers are both SU students on their way back to school after visiting family. One of them has a boyfriend, and apparently the other one has a rash.

8:27 – After spending 10 minutes listing her entire sexual history, the one with a boyfriend asks her single friend for relationship advice that would stump Dear Abbey. The single friend responds with instructions straight out of the Karma Sutra.

8:31 – I now know that there is, in fact, a difference between the ‘Praying Mantis’ and the ‘Flying Orangutan.’ Though they both really just depend on how flexible he is.

8:32 – I will never again step foot in the Schine Student Center first-floor bathroom, third stall from the left. I suggest you do the same.

8:36 – Now the girl with a boyfriend is complaining to her friend about her significant other, who apparently forgot their two-week anniversary. That jerk.

8:39 – That jerk just received a new nickname amidst hushed giggles: ‘Mr. Gone in 60 Seconds.’ I really hope he’s just a Nicholas Cage fan.

8:43 – I’ve had it with this gross conversation. I’m going to give these girls a piece of my mind.

8:44 – On second thought, I’ll hold my tongue. I think the single one sits next to me in my Maxwell lecture.

8:51 – After a heated debate on the merits of boxers versus briefs, Laverne and Shirley finally agree to disagree and mercifully end their conversation. At last, a chance to sleep.

8:54 – My roommate wakes me up to tell me about a dream he just had. It involves Nic Cage, Orangutans and the Karma Sutra.

8:56 – We arrive in Syracuse.

Danny Fersh is a freshman broadcast journalism major and a humor columnist. His columns appear every Wednesday and next time he’s taking Amtrak. He can be reached at dafersh@syr.edu.