The Anti-Comedian Bus Driver

Over the first weekend in March, there were no (reasonable) rooms available in Adelaide due to it being Mad March, the festival season. Someone told me there are 200 separate events that occur in March in Adelaide! The Clipsal 500 stock car race put the city over the edge as far as rooms go. So I took a trip to Melbourne to see my friends. It worked out cheaper to do that than to stay in town. 

The bus driver on the overnight bus there thought he was a comedian, but he was only humorous in the awkward sense. He started off the 8:30 pm ride with a boisterous, “How is everyone?” Silence. “What if I make everyone give me $5? Now how is everyone?” Crickets. “How about I make it $10?” Finally someone piped up a dry, “We’re all fine,” just to shut him up. “Why are you speaking for everyone?”

After the 15 minute safety video, he went on to talk for another 10 minutes about using the toilet on the bus. “If you don’t make sure the bowl empties, it will back up and pour out on the floor of the bathroom and spill out into the bus. You don’t want that. Also, guys, please point down when you use the toilet…you know what I mean…your willie.” If they knew what he meant, why did he say it?

“I’m going to put on a movie now. If you’ve already seen it, you don’t have to watch it again. You could read or listen to music or try to sleep.” I mean, it's a bus, so I would say the options are pretty obvious. At least he didn’t repeat the safety video or the toilet spiel at every stop throughout the night.

Upon arrival in Melbourne, he proceeded to talk for 15 minutes about what you need to do if you were going on to Sydney via bus or going to the airport or taking a train or about five other options. “And if Melbourne is your home, just don’t say anything. You know what to do.”

I Swear, They Must Pump Tranquilizers into the Air

For a few years in a row, my grandpa was unable to leave the nursing home, so my family would go to my grandparents' for Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving holiday festivities. Inevitably, the day followed the same routine.

Get up. Eat a light breakfast. Drive to parents' house. No one's ready at the time we are supposed to leave. Sit at the counter, surly, because I could have slept later. Remember we need pictures to color. Print coloring pages. Pack colored pencils.

Lauren sleeping in car

Leave 30-45 minutes behind schedule. Gah, really? I could have slept that much longer? Pass out in the car for most of the two-and-a-half hour drive. I cannot stay awake in a moving vehicle, people. Arrive hangry (hungry-angry). Get antsy to eat. Why are we saying hello and wishing everyone a happy day? I just want food! Also, the first indication of airborne tranquilizers hits me as I realize I'm about to collapse I'm so tired. No matter, it's nap time after we eat. Ignore weariness.

fun with food

Go to the dining room! Eat! The food is really good, and the only thing I didn't like about eating at the retirement center is no left-overs. Halfway through the meal, remember how dead-tired you are. Barely waddle back to Grandma's apartment due to fullness and exhaustion. Pass out anywhere--floor, couch, bed; I'm not picky.

Wake up two hours later. Go to activity room where they serve cookies and juice. Color. One of the residents would come up to us each holiday, compliment our drawings, and tell us her mother was an artist. We would offer her a coloring sheet, but she wouldn't join in.

Look at the sun, it's time to go! Convince Mom we need to leave (homework, work, etc). This takes anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours. Try unsuccessfully to wake Grandpa. Say goodbyes. Leave. Pass out in car. Usually, a second bout of hanger would rear its head. Stop at a gas station for beef jerky and white cheddar popcorn. Wake up at parents'. Drive home. Go to bed.

As you can see, there was a lot of sleeping involved. The car nap is just my reaction to being a passenger in any moving vehicle, so ignore that. Every time, we swore the retirement home pumped some sort of sedative into the air. My sisters undeniably felt the tranquilizing effects, as well, and would doze off with me. 

If only I could have stayed awake long enough to find out if there was actually such a somnifacient...I mean, we wouldn't want any fights to break out amongst the elderly.

Merry Christmas...God!

publicdomainpictures.net

The Christmas of my 15th year, we spent the holiday at my grandparents' house. My uncle, aunt, and cousin were also in attendance, and I had to sleep on the living room couch. 

I was not excited about sleeping in the living room because I knew the children (13, 10, and 9) would be up at the butt-crack of dawn, so excited about gifts, and I would want to punch them in the face due to lack of sleep and aversion to chipper people in general but especially to children's laughter at that time of day. Background: at the time, I slept on average 10-11 hours a day.

Of course, when the time came I was grumpy and wanted to sleep more, just like I had warned everyone the night before. As everyone filed into the living room, each greeted me with a jovial "Merry Christmas!" I was going by the 'if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all' doctrine and kept my mouth shut.

"Say Merry Christmas, Monica," my mom ordered. Super-cheerily, I said "Merry Christmas!" Then I followed up with a smart-alecky, meant to be loud enough for everyone to hear under my breath, "God!" 

And to top it off, it's on film.