The Wheels on the Bus

For those of you who have not heard, I, Steve Conn, one of the least confident drivers you know, am now cleared to drive the Huntington University Mini-bus.

What is a mini-bus you ask? It's basically a fifteen passenger van in bus form, or perhaps a school-bus in fifteen passenger form. I'm not really sure why you would make a bus of this size but I do know one thing. They are uncomfortable.

Eric and I were sent on a cross-country escapade to save poor terrified Huntington Students from the clutches of Atlanta Georgia. Some of you may not know yet of my intense hatred for Georgia, but it is epic. Last time my friends and I had the misfortune of driving through Georgia we swore that we would not leave the car until we got to Florida and thereby not set foot in that cursed state.*

Eric and I realized about 10 minutes into the trip that the heater on the bus didn't work and that we might be in for a long ride. Which was fine with us because we figured it would be a good time for us to catch up and have a real heart to heart. To do this you had two choices. 1) Yell at the top of your lungs from the front passenger seat, which is actually located about four feet behind the driver, or 2) sit on the floor next to the driver with your eyes level with the dashboard and your butt on a line that says "no passengers beyond this line"


Eventually we picked up some Huntington Students who we didn't know and who didn't know us. But for some reason this didn't seem to distress them at all.

"Hi I'm Steve"
.....
"What's your name?"
"Amy"
"Hi Amy"
"......"
"......"
"Hi."

I love connecting with students!


We made such good friends that trip. And possibly some enemies. For three hours they were forced to play games and solve riddles with us. After that I gave them a "history" lesson on Indiana, and threatened to perform a reader's theater of whatever book I could find on the bus. Also, Eric is slightly obsessed with not stopping on road trips. In fact we refused to even CONSIDER stopping for gas until the gas-light came on. When you heard the tell-tale "ping" that might trigger panic in some first-time bus drivers with a load of disgruntled students Eric would say "do you think we should stop for gas soon?" This caused problems once when a student in the back yelled "are we going to stop for lunch soon? I'm starving."

I looked at Eric, he looked at me, and I said "I'm sorry, we'd like to stop but we still have a quarter of a tank left." None of the students from that trip have talked to me since.

*Sadly, a two hour traffic jam and too many fluids foiled that plan for me, but as I walked back to the car from the woods where I took my "relief" I rationalized it by saying that the only reason I set foot in Georgia was to pee on it.