Once it arrives, you step in, unload the gold (um, give the money), and find a seat.  The seats are the soft, cushiony kind, reserved expressly for those who can afford the luxury of express buses.

And though you would think otherwise, the seats prove to be insanely uncomfortable, as their smoothness only serves to make your butt slide every time the bus makes a turn.

"Good grief," you say.

After the bus crosses into Manhattan, you give yourself a figurative pat in the back, as you have managed the whole time not to vomit.