The pilgrims on the bus
24 hours on the road to the March for Life
“Wait… wait… wait! I forgot my glasses,” a girl shouts.
“I need to go to the bathroom!” another declares.
“I forgot my wallet!” a third student laments.
“Hurry up, guys, we have to leave,” the students are reminded, as they sprint from the waiting bus to retrieve their items.
No, they’re not heading to an away game, or on a spring break tour.
Instead, they’re getting ready for a 24-hour bus ride, ending 1,100 miles away, at the 2025 March for Life.
On that trip, the students are joined by more than 100 other Benedictine College students, for a pilgrimage from Atchison, Kansas, to Washington, D.C.
And those students are not alone.
Annually, tens of thousands of Catholics descend on Washington, D.C., for the annual March for Life. They travel by car, train and plane to walk with other pro-life Americans, advocating for the unborn.
High schools and colleges like Benedictine, send groups every year, renting large charter buses to shuttle students halfway across the country.
For many young Catholics, the bus-to-the March has become a coming-of-age staple—a trip filled with memories of sleepless nights, gas station food, and deep conversations, while hurtling through darkness across America.
But what’s it like to ride their buses, on a trip lasting an entire 24 hours?
To find out, The Pillar’s student correspondent Jack Figge squeezed his 6’3” frame into a narrow seat with little leg room, to ride “the red bus” all the way to Washington.
Here’s the play-by-play of what he saw:
Wednesday, 1/22 1:48 PM — 0 hours on the bus
With belongs secure among the passengers, red bus captain Micah Munoz, a junior at Benedictine began calling attendance:
“Dunlap?!”
“Here!” a voice calls out from the back of the bus.
“Uhh…uhh. Fachin?” he calls.
The word sounds like an inappropriate one to most listeners. Laughter consumes the bus.
“Uh, how do you pronounce your name?” Munoz asks.
“With a soft a,” Fachin responds.
“Oh, ok,” Munoz responds as he proceeds with a roll call.
The “red bus” is one of two charter buses transporting 104 Benedictine College students from Atchison, Kansas to Washington D.C.
With roll call completed, Munoz asks Fr. Christians Schwenka, an assistant chaplain at Benedictine, to open with prayer and a blessing. With that, the two buses transporting the Benedictine conglomerate begin to move, beginning the anticipated 24-hour journey.
Wednesday, 1/22 1:55 PM — 7 minutes on the bus
Up ahead, the lead bus switches on its hazards and pulls to the side of the road. The second bus too comes to a stop.
“Good start guys, good start!” a guy shouts from the back of the bus.
“Bathroom stop?” another student asks.
Only five minutes from campus, the early stop seemed ominous.
But the bus driver, Howard, explains the stop is just to reset the bus’ air conditioner system — a necessary stop for the long journey ahead.
In less than one minute, the buses are back on the road, with passengers hoping for a smooth ride the rest of the journey.
Wednesday, 1/22 4:33 PM — 2.75 hours on the bus
Bored with the rolling plains of Missouri, bus captain Munoz decides it's time to spice up the bus ride with trivia, especially of the Catholic variety.
Questions about saints, sacraments, Catholic history, and Catholic news — provided by yours truly— gave momentary relief to the pilgrims.
Most travelers know at least half of the answers, judging by their shouted answers on the bus. But few passengers fare well in the news category.
Clearly, too few of them read The Pillar.
Wednesday, 1/22 5:42 PM — 4 hours on the bus
The buses pull off the highway in Hannibal, Missouri, the childhood home of Mark Twain.
With the bus parked in a McDonalds parking lot, the group is given free range to eat at the nearby fast food joints; they are told to return to the bus within an hour.
Most students pour into the McDonalds or the Taco Bell next door.
Not wanting to wreak havoc upon their internal systems, a group led by Fr. Schwenka and your intrepid reporter braves the frigid temperatures and a light snowfall for a 10-minute walk to a local Subway.
Assuming the role of guide, I lead the group to what I hope will be a warm, open establishment.
Walking past abandoned storefronts and sketchy strip malls lining our route, the others grow skeptical, asking if I am positive that the Subway is open. I am not positive.
In fact, facing pressure from my hungry peers, I too grow skeptical. So I offer a quick prayer of gratitude when we round a corner, and see that indeed, the Subway was open.
There, we chat with underclassmen and first-timers, telling them the glorious tales of past bus rides and marches.
Pressed for time, we return to the bus with new friends, ready for a long night ahead.
Wednesday, 1/22 7:30 PM — 5.75 hours on the bus
(Reporter’s note: Roasted garlic aioli on a sandwich is a mistake for a bus trip…I need to find gum)
After the bus crosses into Illinois, Munoz asks for volunteers to lead a group rosary.
Offering the rosary for the unborn and safe travel to DC, the bus is filled with the sound of 50 college students praying together.
With the rosary concluded, Munoz shares a brief reflection, giving the pilgrims a biblical analogy.
“We are like David fighting Goliath,” Munoz begins. “Everybody may laugh at you saying that you cannot fight against the institution of abortion. But God sees you and He will use you for great things.”
After the talk, the group is faced with the all important decision—what movie to watch.
Leaving the decision to a democratic vote, Munoz organises a poll via the groupme app.
Wednesday, 1/22 8:07 PM — 6.25 hours on the bus
The (movie) polls have closed.
With the vote split along gender lines, live-action “Cinderella” wins out the polls.
But after a few minutes of homework or conversation, many of the bus’ men take courage, and choose to be kind, engrossing themselves in the movie.
Wednesday, 1/22 10:15 PM — 8.5 hours on the bus
After a semi-deep theological bull session concerning the Cinderella movie and its references to sacrifice, humility, and love, the buses pull off for a quick pit stop.
Within minutes, 100 college students overrun an otherwise sleepy Pilot gas station, much to the chagrin of the employees.
Despite the late hour, one student buys —and promptly chugs — a Monster energy drink, telling The Pillar that, “It doesn’t affect me.”
Another student buys a stale doughnut, desperate for a sugar kick.
Wednesday, 1/22 10:36 PM — 8.75 hours on the bus
With a new bus driver acquired, in accord with federal guidelines, the group boards the buses once again.
Immediately, Munoz makes an announcement — any man sitting in the same row as a woman will have to switch seats. The overnight shift on the bus won’t include hanky panky, he makes clear.
Thus begins a mad dash of switching seats and shuffling bags.
With everybody settled in their new seats, the bus resumes its trek toward D.C.
As the bus traverses through the night, Munoz leads the group in night prayer, calls “quiet hours,” and encourages the passengers to get some sleep.
Thursday, 1/23 12:07 AM — 9.25 hours on the bus
We cross a time zone and the clock jumps forward.
Meanwhile, the bus quiets as pilgrims try finding comfortable sleeping positions. Some try lying on the floor, or spanning their bodies across the aisle. Others cozy up to the window, or lean against a seatmate.
Others sit straight up, plug in their headphones, and pray for sleep.
I pop a melatonin, grab my camping pillow, and hope for a few hours slumber, knowing I’ve promised my editors coherent sentences in the morning.
We will see.
Around me, soft snoring ensues.
I stretch out my long legs and power down the computer, skeptical I’ll slumber.
Thursday, 1/23 2:48 AM — 12 hours on the bus
The Pillar’s seatmate and good friend, Gabe Maday, stirs and checks his phone.
That wakes The Pillar — I remove the winter hat doubling as an eye shade.
We proceed to argue quietly about whether or not the bus has yet made its overnight pit stop.
I insist it has not — I am sure I would have felt it if the bus stopped. Gave insists the bus already stopped.
Realizing that we can’t solve the argument, we agree that we’d each like a drink, and settle back in for sleep.
Thursday, 1/23 2:57 AM — 12.25 hours on the bus
The bus begins to slow down, and takes an exit ramp.
This time we are stopping. Or so we think.
I take off the hat again, only to hear our bus driver Victoria loudly proclaim:
“I don’t know where we are, I have just been following the other bus … he tried to call me a bit ago but I hate talking while I drive so I just kept following.”
Our bus drives into a small town, and pulls into the parking lot of a bowling alley: Thunderbowl.
Thunderbowl is closed.
Our driver, and the bus ahead of us, each turn around and head back toward the interstate. I have no idea what we were doing.
Adios Thunderbowl, hello interstate.
Thursday, 1/23 3:12 AM — Who knows at this point how long we have been on this bus?!
Once again, the bus heads onto an offramp.
This is getting old.
Still awake, Gabe and I begin placing bets on where we are stopping.
I’ve got a beer riding on Waffle House.
Victoria isn’t sure either. We hear her complaining in the driver’s seat, as she follows the bus ahead of us.
The lead bus pulls into a Speedway.
I’ve just lost a beer. Don’t gamble, friends.
Outside the bus, Victoria begins arguing with the other bus driver. Victoria. Is. Ticked. We do not know why.
But the situation is absurd, and the passengers are pretty tired, so students start laughing as they pile off the bus.
Everybody’s in good spirits. At least I think so.
Thursday, 1/23 3:33 AM — too damn long on this bus!
Done with Speedway, conversations begin to die down and the pilgrims settle in for bed once again.
The girls behind me discuss their mutual desire to go to Waffle House, laughing at a shared inside joke. They debate whether or not to go back to bed.
By the time the bus hits the highway, they plug their headphones back in and lay their heads down.
So too does The Pillar.
Thursday, 1/23 5:53 AM —15 hours on the bus, I think?
Having to use the restroom and to stretch my legs, I traverse to the tiny bathroom at the back of the bus.
I step over the bodies sprawled out across the bus floor, hitting only a few people along the way.
It’s an eventful journey, but some things are best left unpublished.
Thursday, 1/23. Somewhere between 6:00 AM and 7:15 AM — An indeterminate number of hours on the bus
I finally drift off to sleep.
Thursday, 1/23 7:17 AM — 16.5 hours on the bus
A great dream stops abruptly, as the bus pulls into a TA Travel Center and the sound of Victoria’s voice pierces through the bus.
Following the lead bus, she shouts her frustration with the other driver.
“Now where are we going?” she asks, as the buses weave through a maze of parked trucks in the parking lot.
I guess it’s time to wake up.
Thursday, 1/23 7:33 AM — nearly 17 hours on the bus
While the bus is still parked, bus captain Munoz decides it’s time to wake everybody else up.
Playing a — delightful? — reveille bugle call, Munoz greets the pilgrims with a “good morning soldiers.”
I don’t want it to be a good morning. I don’t want to be a soldier. I just fell asleep. I want to close my eyes. But I’m consoled when Munoz says the bus will be stopping at a nearby Chick-Fil-A.
I can wake up for that.
Thursday, 1/23 8:46 AM — 18 hours on the bus
Their stomachs filled with Chick-Fil-A, the pilgrims board the bus for the final stretch of their pilgrimage.
With a new day begun, the same-sex seat policy is lifted, and some couples reunite dramatically, resuming some — mostly innocent — canoodling.
Munoz announces morning prayer, as the sun rises over beautiful Pennsylvania hills.
Thursday, 1/23 9:10 AM — 18.25 hours on the bus
With both spiritual and worldly appetite satisfied, the pilgrims settled in for the remainder of the journey. Some tried to sleep more, others watched movies or completed homework. Chatter filled the back of the bus.
Bored, I switch on my recording app and begin chatting with our fearless leader, Micah Munoz, about his experience on the bus.
“I mean it’s been quite an adventure so far,” he begins.
Yeah, it has been.
I ask him how he was roped into leading our trek.
“I didn’t think I would be leading the March for Life trip,” Munoz says.
“But I began praying one day, asking God for a [student] job at Benedictine. I was scrolling through the applications on the BC website, and saw this position and thought it might be fun and that God was calling me to do it..”
“I applied, and the next day I got an email asking when I could start.”
In high school, Munoz attended the March for Life three times. But his high school in Boulder, Colorado, flew to Washington.
“When I attended previous marches, what stood out most was how familial it was, we were all together, and our group became very tight knit,” Munoz says.
“I also wasn't expecting the size, the caliber of people who were there.”
In high school, Munoz always took note of the large Benedictine College group in attendance at the march, hoping that one day he would be with them.
“I always admired the Benedictine banner being carried, and their group,” Munoz says. “Now, I am here on the bus helping to lead the trip, and it is almost like a dream come true. It is a full circle moment.”
Munoz says he’s enjoying the bus ride.
“The bus ride is more familial because you are in it together,” Munoz explains. “It's a good time to get to know everyone, get to know their names, and build community. Ultimately, it's just a great time to be with my friends and with people I know as we seek to make a difference.”
He tells me he appreciates that on the bus, sacrifice is part of the journey.
“It's the small things that you have to sacrifice,” Munoz says. “You may not get a ton of sleep and not a ton of food; you may have to put up with loud or annoying people, and you just have to embrace those things and suck it up.”
“This is a pilgrimage. We are giving something up to stand for something that we truly care about.”
“It's been a little weird,” he says. “The bus drivers [arguing] last night were a little strange, but the weird parts make for great stories… as you can testify to, Jack.”
You bet I can.
Thursday, 1/23 9:55 AM — 19 hours on the bus
After our interview, Munoz gets on a microphone, encouraging passengers to play a game with their neighbors.
The game, he explains, is called wavelength.
Three people choose a number, the fourth person — the guesser — gives each person a category. One person then gives the guesser an item or person they rank to be of the same numerical value chosen by the three. The guesser then has to assign a number to that item, and after hearing all three examples, he must guess the numerical rank the group chose.
Confused? Absolutely confounded by the rules of the game? Struggling to picture it?
So is this sleep-deprived reporter, trying to explain it to you. I might have all wrong, in fact.
Sorry.
Anywho, the game livens up the bus, and conversation picks up. We’re having fun again.
Thursday, 1/23 10:50 AM — 20 hours on the bus
After an hour, Munoz decides it's time for another game, this time it’s “telephone.”
Simpler than the last one, telephone requires passengers to whisper a message to the person behind them, the receiver then shares the same message with the person behind them and so on until it reaches the back of the bus.
The objective: do not distort the message.
Messages get a bit silly. Some are not fit to print.
(Well, actually, they weren’t that bad, I just forgot most of them.)
Thursday, 1/23 10:55 AM - 20 hours on the bus
Deciding that some spiritual reparations need to be made for the jokes, Munoz invites the bus to join him for a rosary.
Students take turns leading the decades.
Some students drift off into a nap, others stare out the window at the passing scenery.
Thursday, 1/23 12:01 PM - 21.25 hours on the bus —but who's counting?
With my faithful compadre Gabe taking a nap, and this report up to date, I find myself bored.
So, I turn around and begin chatting with some freshmen behind me.
One of them, Rose Wolfgang, a freshman from Connecticut, shares her past experiences on the March for Life.
“I remember in high school, we'd all just kind of ignore each other on the bus, we'd all have our separate groups,” Wolfgang shares.
On this bus ride though, she has experienced a vibrant community.
“I like the energy that the Benedictine gives,” Wolfgang said. “Everyone's staying engaged with each other, everyone's very friendly and talking with one another.”
But the journey hasn’t been easy, she said.
“I've definitely never taken a bus ride this long.The longest road trip I've ever taken was nine hours so it's a little stressful, because it's hard to sleep on this bus,” Wolfgang said. “Last night, I was in a state of sleeping and not sleeping, and I wasn't sure whether or not I was getting rest.”
“We tried to take melatonin, but I just don't think it worked. So then we got breakfast, and I kind of slept some more after that.”
Relatable.
Though Wolfgang did not sleep much, her spirits are still high.
“Everyone's attitude is very light and happy with each other so it is a positive attitude,” Wolfgang said. “Now I'm in a state of acknowledging that we're in a bus but we're getting off soon.”
“I just keep thinking about how we're getting off soon.”
Same.
Wolfgang is joined by her best-friend Sarah Dunlap for the cross-country adventure. Sharing the journey with Dunlap has made it an unforgettable experience, she says.
“I brought my friend Sarah here with me, so we've been joking around and having great conversations,” Wolfgang says.
“Surprisingly, we haven't fought at all. We're like sisters, so we argue sometimes. But we've just been so chill this whole time.”
Still, Wolfgang says she’s not likely to take the bus again to the march.
“I don't think I'll be coming back,” Wolfgang adds. “As cool as it is, I think it's definitely a one-time experience for me, just because this has been hard, and we're gonna have to go back to school on another 24 hour bus ride.”
I had forgotten about that part. We’re almost off the bus, but we’ll have to do it again in a few days.
Thursday, 1/23 12:54 PM — 22 hours on the bus
As we approach D.C., I find myself talking with another girl named Rose: Rose Palermo, a sophomore at Benedictine College.
Last year, she attended the March for Life with Benedictine, and she knew that she wanted to return again, even if it meant enduring another long bus ride.
“The bus ride is part of the pilgrimage,” Palermo says. “It just shows how much you care about the thing. Going to the March for Life is a really cool experience with the speakers and seeing how many other Catholic people show up and are there supporting the cause.”
Palermo says she likes attending the march to be a witness to life. She hopes her witness might impact others.
“It is such a beautiful thing, and an important thing to stand up for what we believe in and to be there to show other people,” Palermo says.
“Last year, we were in a gas station, and the person was surprised to find out we were driving 20 hours to get there and thought it was crazy,” Palermo shared. “It made him more interested in what we were doing.”
She says she’s most enjoyed the prayer on the bus.
“What really struck me was when we were all praying the rosary and the liturgy of the hours together,” Palermo said. “It was so cool to hear the entire bus sing and hear the prayers echo from the back of the bus to the front.”
Thursday, 1/23 1:15 PM — 22.5 hours on the bus
“Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Washington D.C.” Munoz announces into the microphone.
That grabs everyone's attention.
Munoz says that there are 30 minutes left, and provides instructions for once the pilgrims arrive in D.C.
The pilgrims chat about what they want to see that evening, and make plans about who will shower first at the hotel - it’s clear everyone needs a shower.
As the bus progresses, slowly, through D.C. traffic, Munoz points out monuments out the windows.
Thursday, 1/23 1:42 PM — 23 hours on the bus
The bus arrives in downtown DC. We’re there. Kind of. Except we pull over and the bus comes to a complete stop. I don’t know why. No one does.
So close, but not yet there.
Thursday, 1/23 1:50 PM - still 23 hours on the bus
The buses begin to move.
Thursday, 1/23 1:55 pm — 23 hours 7 minutes on the bus
After some narrow misses in congested streets, the buses arrive at the hotel, almost exactly 23 hours after departing Atchison.
Pilgrims laugh and chat as they depart the bus, excited to be in the nation's capital.
It is finished.
At least until the return 23+ hour trek home.
And if it’s anything like this journey, I’m excited.
As long as we don’t stop at Thunderbowl, at three in the morning. I’ve already seen what that’s like.
Thank you for enduring a long bus ride to share this account! It provided entertainment as well as hope for the younger generation.
Amazing! I have done the "round trip in a day from Pittsburgh" bus in some prior year (tiring) but a 24 hour ride is a profound witness. God will not be outdone in generosity so what I would recommend to folks is to be open to receiving whatever it is He would like to give in return.