Wednesday, May 19, 2010

On the way to work I stopped at a

rest area for a cup of joe, which I knew would hit the spot.

As I was carrying my precious cup of liquid heart massage out to my truck, a small group of women came in carrying their luggage, which seemed rather odd.

As I got out the door, I saw another much larger group of women and a couple of somewhat effeminate looking men walking in, all carrying luggage.

They all looked angry and outraged, and I realized that this might be a pretty good story in the making for this blog, so I decided to see what was going on.

I looked out and saw a bus go roaring off, and from the smoke and sound of things, I knew he had the gas pedal mashed tightly against the floor.

There women, for the most part, were in their 20s and looked pretty professional. They were mostly professionally dressed, well made up and looked like a group of mostly pretty classy women.

I stopped and asked a couple of them a few questions and found out that they were New York City students that were in some school related event in the middle of Pennsylvania.

Seems they had all just bailed out of the bus that was taking them back to New York.

Now, they were all pretty upset, and from what I managed to glean, they were escapees from the bus trip from hell.

I know I do not have the story straight because I got conflicting reports from a couple of pretty angry and upset women, but I’ll just bet I have gotten it somewhat close.

The Fly by Night Bus Company had hired an immigrant from some far flung remote outpost on the planet where domestic violence is a very routine occurrence and gave him the run to take the group of students back to New York City.

The picture that comes to my mind is some greasy looking, semi-bald wild-eyed A-rab with a huge Zapata moustache and a gold tooth driving the bus.

When the women politely explained that they had not eaten in several hours and wanted to stop off at a rest area for a quick bite, he balked and snapped that they could eat when they got home.

Then he broke into a cursing streak screaming at them

A few minutes later, one of the women discovered that the bathroom door was locked and the driver roundly cursed them all telling them he wasn’t going to clean up after all those pigs. They could wait until they got to New York.

Wrong move.

He very well might have gotten away with not letting them get a bite to eat, but if he thought for a second that he had what it takes to keep a busload of American women away from the toilet for a four hour bus ride, he must have been out of his mind.

That just ain’t gonna happen. No Way, no how. Nope. Euclid was wrong. The shortest distance between 2 points is not a straight line. It is the route a woman takes to go to the damned bathroom, and there is not a 300 pound linebacker that can stop a 92 pound women determined to pee from getting into the bathroom, either.

The women mutinied and I have visions of a well dressed, classy New York woman removing an Armani Italian stiletto high heel shoe from her foot, grabbing it by the toe and threatening to hammer a couple of dozen marble-sized blood blisters into the greasy little skull of the slimy twerp.

The little twerp, awakened to reality and in fear for his very life, realizes that he is no longer the Sheik of Araby. He is no longer Lord and Master of all he sees.

Something is dreadfully wrong when he has to be the servant of mere women. This is not right by all he calls holy and he wonders what wrong he has committed to have his God put him into this dreadfully fearful situation.

He puts the pedal to the metal and goes like hammers of holy hell to the nearest rest area, cursing loudly all the while. Upon arrival, he pulls up to the door slamming on the brakes and whipping the door open.

The women, seeing the opportunity to use a bathroom or get something in their gurgling, shrunken stomachs, grab their bags and baggage and bail out like paratroopers leaving a burning airplane.

The Bus driver, seeing the opportunity to get away from this angry rabble, curses them as they storm off the bus and the second the last one is off, seizes the opportunity to escape with his life from this unexpected rebellion of women, hits the gas and roars off. The cursing is instantly exchanged for with joyous prayers of thanksgiving for having escaped with his pitiful little life.

Over the years I have seen a few instances where someone moves to this country and forgets that he is not where he came from and gets into trouble by discounting an American woman.

I remember watching some grabby European macho man get a knuckle sandwich once from a pretty little thing that looked like a young Barbara Billingsley.

It never fails to amuse me when some dumb-ass gets what’s coming to him.

As for the women, I told them that I just knew that there was another bus coming along soon, as I had seen an older looking staff type woman on her cell phone.

I told a small group of the students that when this was over and they were back in class, they would have a pretty good story to tell their classmates about the bus ride from hell.

A couple of them looked thoughtfully for a second or two and calmed right down. They looked at me and smiled.

One of them looked at me and chuckled. “You’re right,” she said.

Generally it takes about three or four days for something like this to become a funny story to tell your friends.

I wish I had known this when I was their age.

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