In the summer of 1980, Rick Ames was to realize a long-time desire to expose his family to the wonders of California, one of America's heartlands. ``It will be a trip which I want them to remember. How to do it -- optimizing their sense of wonder at our great land.'' It was too much: Rick's worries were such that he felt it must be entrusted to another more competent one to plan the vacation. Rick went to a travel agent. ``I must have two worries. One: My wife and children must enjoy themselves. Two: The accomodations must be immaculate.''
``Solved,'' said the travel agent. ``I'll book for four for the bus up the coast.'' ``Awright!'' Mac.
It was the best. The accomodations were such. Immaculate was the word which both of Rick's young sons, Don and Scott used. Immaculate. They pronounced it wrong, though, like, ``I'm Mac; you late!''
``Who's late?'' asked the B.D. (Bus Driver). ``I ain't waitin' -- screw 'em! We're pullin' out at 0200 hours. Awright?'' We're with you!
In L.A. they had an experience which wasn't pleasant. They were at a dive in Watts when a dirty-fork-incident made it all so brutal. ``10 % tip -- that's all!'' said Rick murderously. we pressed for more, but Rick was adament. The boys pronounced this ``at a mint.'' As the nearest mint was in Washington, D.C., the nation's capitol, the bus driver set off at a clip for that city, his prestige all but on the line. The boys rooted for him all the way.
``There's Washington! There's Lincoln! There's a spider in Mom's brassiere!''
``What? Never again!'' said their mother. In what was later reviewed in a slow-motion segment of the eleven o'clock eyewitness axiom news, she took the clothes from her body and leapt screaming and voluptuous into the reflecting pool. Simultaneously, she leapt out and replaced her clothing militarily (seductively in the extreme). They went to the show tonight, bud.
Not that everyone was happy or stimulated and excited on the bus tour, though. Some questioned the conventional wisdom of the bus driver who had taken them across the country for what amounted to no reason whatsoever. They couldn't reconcile the trip with either of the two aspects of reality as they perceived it. The first was tradition, as always; the second was what they called circumstance -- which they divided into two categories: that which was under circumstance, and that which was beyond all circumstances (like finding a woman unexpectedly), and to that was added a third: that which was categorizable as one or the other, but not both or neither -- though this category falls into none of the four states -- one, the other, both, and neither -- and thus demands a fifth category, like a woman. They chose, however, not to term this a `category,' but rather, `a special case'; rather than as a mistake. Technically, Rick Ames was not in this group of people, but his smiling young wife was, as a matter of course, gladly. Of their two boys, it could not be said that they were or weren't, nor were they both or neither; they were thus also a special case, reconciled twice with state and local law. Since the District of Columbia is not a state nor in a state (a special case: neither both nor neither), this was whythe bus driver had taken them there -- it was only in D. C. that the boys would not a third time reconciled be.
``Three times an' y'r out,'' he warned. But they were scheduled for next stop San Diego. Local authorities there were arranged in two lines to deal appropriately with the boys. The first line dealt solely with local details; the second line dwealt -- nay, doted upon -- California state issues. Several times the boys came to mix the lines, and on each of these days the tour was delayed for hours at a time.
``Seldom have I been eye-witness to such a mere detail, a buildup over practically nothing (except the bare essentials), a detail for a scrapbook, a postcard/ticket, a picture of sanity in the bus -- with everyone in it!'' Excellent. They took several such pictures , but only Rick's seemed to come out best when developed. The others had their moments, but in the long-run... well, Rick was a pro. It had to be admitted. One by one, the other photographers did, in fact, admit this, and signed their names to an affadavit to that effect, passed around by Rick, stearnly, as it was needed for dealings with the state line of local authorities, the local line being chosen by the state.
The tour took them up through Monterey, down to Carmel, off for fish 'n' chips with Peg in Sausalito, and back and forth aimlessly quite a few times. The days began to drag on, each longer than the last. Thus, the first day was exactly 24 hours long, the second was 25 hours long, the third 26, the fourth 27, and so on (u.s.w). The extra hour each succeeding day was spent adjusting to the time change. It took at least that long for everyone but Rick and his wife, Frie Potatoes. No one had ever seen them, for they always hid when aboard the bus. ``We think they are embarrassed,'' said the people who were their neighbors.
``Wait a second!'' said the man who sat in front of them. ``How do you know you're their neighbors if we ain't ever seen 'em?''
``We don't know. We're just described that way when we're spoken of in print -- it's like a pen-name, we imagine. Someone else must know that we're their neighbors. A busy person.''
``Well, I know!'' snapped someone short as all get-out. ``Can't you see them under those empty chairs?''
``Well, now that you mention it, probably most of us can se them, as far as that goes...'' A great commotion arose and the bus driver finally had to stop the bus. As best he could. Then they all looked, and sure enough, Rick Ames and his wife had chose seats under where people were sitting (the chairs not being empty; the dwarf was wrong. He apologized, and pointed again). When the people who were sitting on top of them got up, Rick Ames and his wife got up too (she was much slower), and beneath them were the wallets of everyone on the bus. The cash was long gone -- Mrs. Ames had spent it all on frills -- e.g., the curtains in the back of the bus, trimmed in Ermine, for example. ``So that's the story!'' said one passenger, winking at Mrs. Ames. It was, too.