March 1969

Miss January

COMING SOON 

Miss December

December 1969

home for the holidays [pt. 1]

The bus driver's voice crackled over the intercom. "It looks like we will be arriving at our final destination a little later than expected, folks."

This came as no surprise to me or any of the other more observant Megabus riders; we had advanced approximately a hop, skip, and a jump over the past hour.

From my aisle seat on the upper deck of the bus I leaned over and attempted to see if the traffic was moving at all. A line of stagnant red tail lights stretched as far as the eye could see. Like the Christmas lights strung on the gutters of Satan's house in hell for the holiday season.

Normally I would hitch a ride home for the holidays with friends. They didn't have to even be friends, they just had to have a vehicle with ample leg room and decent gas mileage. If I had to choose between taking the Megabus or riding bitch in an eighteen-wheeler with stick shift between my legs the whole ride, it would be the easiest decision of my life. I even had a trucker name picked out for the occasion: Rubber Duckie.

As fate would have it however, for this trip I was friendless and carless. I blamed it on the fact that Hanukkah came early this year, and my Jewish friends had already high-tailed it home. If my Jewish buddy Moses was sitting with me on the bus, perhaps he could have parted the red sea of tail lights and made room for this girthy Megabus to sneak through. Unfortunately for me, Moses was home hosting Hanukkah dinner at his place tonight. Mazel tough luck.

The bag of trail mix I had picked up at the last rest stop had been deceivingly salty, and my desire for a quenchful drink now nearly equaled my desire to have the bus drive off a cliff and end this painful ride.

I glanced at the last text I had received on my phone almost an hour before. From my mother:

Per your request, picked up some beer at the store for you. Hope you like Miller High Life it was on sale. Should be cold by the time you get home. <3

When I received the text I had been less than enthused about her choice of brews. I for one didn't buy into that "Champagne of Beers" marketing malarky. Sitting parched in my ugly blue upholstered Megabus seat however, I was in no longer in any position to be picky. I would graciously suck down a Miller High Life without any qualms, because frankly, it would mean that I was finally home.

The bus had become eerily quiet. The incessant sound of phonecalls in their various dialects had ceased. There was just the gentle hum of the bus's engine, and the sound of stale air being recycled through the vents. In the muffled silence I heard something tiny and hard rolling around on the floor below me. I bent down with and illuminated the object with my phone screen. It was a tiny white capsule, no larger than an aspirin.

As I held it up close to my face it appeared to be an Ambien. I shrugged and popped it into my mouth, praying that it would temporarily put me out of my misery. 

I sucked on my tongue briefly to accrue enough saliva to swallow what I had hoped to be a sedative whole. Like magic, within 5 minutes I was feeling rather drowsy. I gladly closed my eyes.

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was that I was definitely not in a Megabus. I was lying in the middle of what appeared to be a field full of dead corn stalks. The sun was coming up over the horizon and my extremities were painfully numb. I did my best to feel around for my phone. It was a fruitless endeavor. I officially had no idea where I was, or where my phone was. I was sure of one thing, however. 

I was very, very far away from the cold Miller High Lifes that were waiting for me.

*  *  *  To Be Continued  *  *  *