The one in which Rachel gets kicked off a Chinatown bus

Disclaimers can be dangerous things. I know. But let me preface this whole story by stating that I have never been a rebel rouser. Ever. For good or bad, I have always been of the sniveling, people-pleasing, Neville Longbottom-esque variety. Having my credit card rejected at the grocery store register reduces me to a quivering, blushing mess.

So what went down on Saturday, September 4th, on board the Chinatown Express line -- direction Washington, D.C. -- was unnatural. And shocking.

It all started when our lumbering, non-Wifi bus (which I'm still bitter about) pulled into a Baltimore rest stop. My ever-active roommate, Bri, decided to get off the bus for a couple minutes to stretch her legs. And why not? At a previous rest stop in Philadelphia's Chinatown (this bus ride was to feature a comprehensive tour of all East Coast Chinatowns), we had been subjected to a 25-minute-long rest stop, while bus travelers scampered to the nearest Chinese restaurant bathroom only to find a wizened, Asian woman fiercely scrubbing her raw fish in the bathroom sink.

So Bri got off the bus.

That's when I heard a suspicious rumbling and noticed the bus was moving. Away from the dilapidated Holiday Inn (which happened to have no electricity at the moment). And away from Bri.

As I processed the fact that the bus driver "wasn't just repositioning the bus," I clumsily shuffled to the front of the bus to kindly ask the driver to briefly stop the bus. And there I met my great surprise. In very loud terms (for all the other 50+ travelers to hear), he told me he was not going to stop. Even for one 22 year-old girl's bladder. I had to get off the bus or leave my friend behind. Sans her cellphone, wallet, iTouch -- in essence, her lifeblood.

I stumbled back to collect our bags, and, with all 50+ eyes still on me, got off the bus. On to a highway in the middle of nowhere. The last thing I heard before the bus doors slapped behind me was the unintelligible ramblings of the bus driver who continued to berate me. May his conscience keep him up at night.

I dragged our bags across the highway, found Bri, watched Bri's eyes widen, watched Bri begin to hyperventilate (just kidding Bri!). And then my survivor tendencies kicked into gear. We harassed several gap-toothed middle-aged women at the darkened Holiday Inn until they told us that "naw, you cain't buy bus tickets here." We befriended an excitable Asian man/self-appointed Chinatown bus liaison/guardian angel in disguise who directed us to a grassy patch where we could wait for the next bus. We watched in horror as a three-legged dog crossed the busy highway and made his way to us (I was sure I was about to witness a bloody tragedy). I even peed in a dark bathroom (there was still no electricity).

Within fifteen minutes, another Chinatown bus showed up. After high-fiving our smiley bus tour liaison friend, we hopped on. It was like we had never gotten off. Same stale smell. Same bedraggled mix of young adults and senior citizens dozing -- or trying to. Still no Wifi.

And, apparently, we still haven't learned our Chinatown lesson. I sit here writing this after just missing our return bus to New York.

One thing is sure though. I won't be getting off anytime soon to "stretch my legs."