I could feel a bus-worth of four-eyed geeks staring at us. Delores eventually directed Alan to, "Drive on!" before sitting down with us at the front of the bus. She feigned like I wasn't there, which was fine by me. It was like that until we picked up our last egghead at Lexington, and Alan yelled back, "No more stops until Lincoln."
That must have been the clue Delores was waiting for. She started up this "What was your first chaperoning gig?" game. I had to bite my lips to keep from smiling, seeing it as a proper test of my armor. Others shared as expected—camp whatevers, bible school such-and-such.
I went last and shared about working at Mandy's diner on Friday and Saturday nights. I talked about how folks came from all over and packed the place—locals and tourists, young and old. Keeping customers happy with kitchen and drink orders nears impossible. A near seven-foot trucker might suddenly stumble for the door, bouncing off folks and furniture like a pinball, mumbling about getting back on the road. It takes a gentle, kind spirit to remind him of his better idea: to stay and sober up. Of course, the mulatto Blind Mike might wander in from his travels, being led by his latest bleeding heart. He can play our ragtime piano as easily as breathing and has the whole place singing songs in no time. We cry when customers have lost and rejoice when they get ahead. Break up fights when needed. Honestly, customers were no different than children.
When I finished, there was total silence between the chaperones. Delores, specifically, looked out the bus window with a thousand-yard stare. The best bit for me? I could tell they believed every word of my fabrication. None of it was mine. Genie would share her horror stories from the diner after each shift. I just re-told it in my own voice is all.
When Alan cut off the engines, saying we had arrived, he ran off the bus—probably heading for the john. My heart skipped a beat, thinking my role-playing was coming to an end. We all filed off the bus with our bags, some giddy and pointing at the campus buildings. I had a chance to whisper in Delores' ear, saying I could use a breather since I had "the kids" the longest. She took hold of me with this rushed warrior hug, saying clearly, "… just be back by dinner." Then she left me behind, leading a column of eggheads like Mother Goose.
Crossing O Street with the tote bag, I gave anyone watching my best "Boss Lady Meeting Her Lawyer" walk. My gut, though, felt like a fuming kaleidoscope of butterflies wanting to break out. Did Genie get my "I'm coming" postcard? Was she still living there? Was she home? Was she awake?
