My strange experience actually took place in the Regina, Canada bus terminal in April, 1996. I was waiting for the boarding call for my bus to Winnipeg when I noticed some guy wandering around the terminal, very well dressed for someone hanging around a bus terminal on a Saturday morning -- pressed clothes and the whole bit -- but looking hung over and with his hair in a mess. You get all types in a bus station, I figured.
Sure enough, this guy wandered over and plunked himself down two seats away from me in the waiting area, and started staring at me. "So, where you off to?", he asked in a hung-over voice as soon as I turned my head.
"Winnipeg," I said.
He continued staring at me, glassy-eyed, for about five seconds.
"Ugh!", he yelled, "What the hell are you going there for?!" Granted, Winnipeg is a gritty, midwestern manufacturing town, but I was still taken aback.
"Um, well, actually, I live there," I said, surprised.
"Oh," he mumbled, "I'm going to Saskatoon." It was a relief to hear that, since it meant that he and I would be on different buses. The last thing I wanted to do was to make small-talk with him for eight hours.
That aside, Greyhound is a decent way of traveling if you can get from Point A to Point B within 8-10 hours; I wouldn't recommend it for longer or overnight trips. It's cheaper than even the no-frills airlines (My 1996 round-trip of 330 miles each way cost $75 Cdn., or about $50 U.S. at current exchange rates, plus tax. The lowest available airfare was then about three and a half times higher.), and both trips departed and arrived on time. The staff at both stations were courteous, and the no-frills service was just fine under the circumstances.