Funny, but I didn't hear anything about Bayfest on my city bus ride. Big Mama was busy giving career advice to a young man, weary of bussing tables all day, and pointing out that the proliferation of policemen giving speeding tickets will escalate through the holiday season, as this is the preferred way our boys in blue obtain bonuses. None of the other Regulars had anything to say about the music festival, and I had almost forgotten about it until I made my way from Government Plaza to Bienville Square to my Baldwin County bus. Although the barricades and bustle had only a minor impact on my route, The Professionals were a bit antsy.
I chose a seat at the front of the bus, even though I really prefer the back. There seems to be a sub-grouping of Professionals-- the Serious Professionals who busy themselves reading inspirational books, or biographies of couragous Republicans, or doing whatever people do on their Tablets. And there are the Witty Professionals-- always smiling and trying their best to contribute the appropriate pun in any conversation. Bow-ties. I wouldn't say it's set in stone, but by and large the Serious Professionals sit at the front of the bus, the Witty Professionals occupy the back, and making up the middle of the bus are the In-Betweeners. Not to be limited to one group or another, they are at times glib and at other times stoic. Wild cards.
The last time I sat at the back of the bus, the topic being discussed was the expiration dates of the vouchers we are all mailed, enabling us to get a free emergency ride back to Baldwin County from downtown Mobile in case we miss our bus due to circumstances beyond our control. One of the Witty Professionals suggested those with vouchers about to expire should all meet at Wintzel's after work some Friday night, enjoy a few drinks, then all call for the emergency ride at the same time! His face froze in a silly, expectant smile, while the rest of the Witties reacted with rolling eyes, groans, and muffled laughter. From the front of the bus, a deadpan: "I don't think that's what the vouchers are supposed to be used for." Thank you, Serious, for clearing that up...
But, like I said, I chose a seat at the front of the bus this time because I seem to suffer less motion sickness the closer I am to the windshield. There was panic in the voices of The Professionals boarding in front of me. "You think it's bad now, but wait until tomorrow-- Bayfest Friday!" and "They close these streets earlier and earlier every year..." Finally the tension grew to great, and one Professional announced in desperation, "I think I'm just going to drive my own car tomorrow. Can we be sure the bus will make it out to the Interstate with all of... THIS going on?" The bus driver, sitting diagonally across from me, gave me a "Bless Their Hearts" smile with a shake of his head. I still don't know his name, but this driver is a bit older than Morning Driver Lamar. He's a good natured fellow, and he started this job the week before I started taking the bus, so we share a sort of kinship.
Once we got going, the quiet older lady across from me confided that she always takes Bayfest Friday off. However, this year she feels compelled to come in because next week she has jury duty. Weird. So do I! "Bay Minette?" I ask-- "Yes," she replies. We marvel at the coincidence of it all. She talks very softly and very sloooowwwwlllly, so you should read her quotes at about a third the speed you read everything else.
"I really don't like jury duty because I just don't feel right about missing so much work, it's such an inconvenience to the others in the office," she says.
"Oh, I don't know," I reply, "Other people in the office get called to jury duty now and then. We pick up their slack when they are out, they pick up our slack next week."
In the softest, slowest, Georgia Engel voice she explains, "Yes. But those who pick up MY slack never do it as well as I do when I pick up theirs." Oh my.
"I tried to get my husband to go in my place because he's retired," she continues, "but I guess no one would look at him and think he looked like his name was Susan" Proud of herself, she smiled and closed the conversation.
To my astonishment, from the cusp of the In-Betweeners comes, "Ha! A Boy Named Sue!"
And with that, he earned a seat in the back of the bus.
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