Day One
What you are about to read is my account of the NHS Music Department's four-day trip to Annapolis, MD, April 22 - 25. It is not censored or abridged from my original journal entries in any way. In fact, it's a bit longer. I can make no promises about accuracy beyond this: This is how I saw it and remember it.
Each entry is one day, starting with the Thursday we left.
Thursday, April 22
Ow.
I squinted one eye against the light intruding through the coach window. Sighing and twisting in the seat, I grabbed the shade and yanked it down a good two-thirds of the way. A quick glance around confirmed that Drumline was still showing on the TV just above my head, that Keith was still riveted by the movie, and that my hat had fallen into the crack between the seat and the window. Which explained how the sunlight had gotten in my eyes and awakened me in the first place.
"Keith."
"What?"
"Hand me the box of Chan's almond cookies."
I grabbed my hat, smoothed it out, and placed it back on my head. Keith handed me the box of cookies. I'm fairly certain I've developed a mild addiction to them. A good one, since an entire box of forty cookies is only a $1.00 at the Dollar Tree in Tyngsboro.
Snapping my tray table down to hold the box, I inhaled a couple of cookies and raised the window shade up a notch so I could see the outside world. The so-called twisted steel of industry rose in the distance, mostly composed of skyscrapers, overpasses, and bridges. Nearer the bus and the edge of the highway were smaller bridges and overpasses, rolling green stretches of roadside grass and shrubs, and several trees. It was elegant, really, the way the grey of the city and the verdance of the life encircling it blurred together. This surprised me, mostly because I'd never really seen anything like this, and partly because "elegant" was the last adjective I ever would have chosen to describe New Jersey.
I watched the symbiosis of the city and the grasses for awhile, then turned my attention back to what was going on inside the bus. I half-twisted in my seat to get a look around - I can be annoyingly nosy like that - and, seeing and hearing nothing of interest, slouched back into the blue and grey upholstery. George was saying something in low tones to Tammy just behind me, but I didn't turn to look or strain to hear. George is one of my best friends and I love Tammy to death - and they were by no means being overly affectionate - but their couple-ish-ness was not something I really felt like dealing with at that moment. I cast my eyes up to the TV screen. The director guy was rebuking Devon (I think that was his name) for lying about being able to read music on his college application. Boring. I sighed again and wondered what time dinner might be.
We had stopped about an hour before at a McDonald's somewhere on the New Jersey Turnpike. From there I had called Kate - she was getting ready to leave NCSU for Nationals in Cazenovia (I think that's how you spell it), NY. It was the first time I'd smiled in three hours. Keith and George made their usual comments, and I made my usual comebacks. Our break wasn't long - It was more of a bathroom and stretching break than anything - but George and I split a box of fries. I'd wanted to buy more, but Keith advised me that I'd just be wasting my money, since we were going to stop for dinner a little farther down the road anyway. And Courounis would give us meal vouchers. For once in my life, the Jew in me stood victorious over the hunger. I wavered slightly on the way out - the vending machines had my absolute favorite, Hershey's with almonds - but it wanted $2.70 for it. No way.
On my way back to Blue Bus, I had contemplated the fact that my favorite candy bar is actually the fifth one on my list: 3 Musketeers, Kit-Kat, Milky Way, and Twix all come before it. Sadly, they all also now bear peanut advisory warnings. As do Twinkies.
I loved Twinkies.
Again, I wondered when dinner was going to be.
I leaned my head against the window, eye-to-eye with my own dark and featureless reflection, and watched a world torn loose ramble by. The air out there was electric, and everything had that surreal, dream-like quality that accompanies an overcast sunset. The wind blew obliquely through the treetops, stirring the leaves on the trees and pressing the longest blades of grass flat against the earth; the world glowed with the violet and crimson brilliance that lined the greying clouds overhead, the last vestiges of day that were trying as hard as they could to escape down to the ground and set it afire. It was both brilliant and subdued, crisp and smooth, orange and purple and many different shades of grey and blue. It was like I could see the light filtering down through the darkening sky above me, and at the same time, I couldn't. It's almost impossible to explain to someone who's never seen it before.
It was then that I wanted to walk down the concrete island that divided the highway, almost like a tightrope walker, toeing the line between waking and dreaming. I wanted to stand in the middle of the traffic swishing by in both directions, to absorb every fiber of dusk as it spilled across the highway. And I knew I had to be half asleep because I wanted to watch the headlights streak past me and the tail lights flare and fade away in the gathering night, I wanted to breathe in the twilight all along the turnpike - and this was New Jersey. I gagged and pulled my shirt collar across my face.
"Keith!"
"It wasn't me!"
Trust me, it very well could have been. New Jersey was a veritable breath of fresh air after sitting next to that kid for four hours on a bus. In his defense, however, his digestive tract was still adjusting to the massive amounts of junk food he was putting into it. He'd been off the stuff for months.
"On your left and right are the refineries," Walter said. "That's what's causing the smell - we should be outta here soon."
Walter was our coach driver. He was a cool guy.
He said a few things afterward - pointing this out on the left, and that out on your right, and if you look way down that way and peer through the mist over the water, you can see where the World Trade Center towers used to be - but I was too tired to pay attention to him by that time. It was eight o'clock and we hadn't hit Delaware yet, which meant we wouldn't be stopping for food for awhile. And I was damn hungry. Thankfully, Courounis was starting to pass out meal vouchers.
I ate a few more of Mr. Chan's almond cookies and, after a bit of searching, recovered my hat from the seat in front of me. The clouds were dissolving overhead, and as I watched the night pouring past the window, the internal bus lights came on.
It was at that point that the staring contest with my reflection resumed. But his brow was overshadowed by the black felt hat he was wearing, and behind his eyes the world slid serenely by.
***
"Weinstein."
Ungh.
"Weinstein."
"What?" It was Keith.
"Food."
I checked my watch. 9:12 PM. Fabulous.
It turned out that we were eating at the same rest stop we hit up on our way down to Williamsburg, VA two years ago. By the time we arrived most of the food outlets were closed, but I still managed to snag two double cheeseburgers and a large Coke from somewhere. Whatever that somewhere was, though, they had the coolest fry boxes I've ever seen. They were cardboard, shaped like gun holsters, and actually had slits cut in them through which a belt could pass. So, of course, I had to slide it onto my belt. I had the shirt, the jeans, the cowboy hat - I figured I'd complete the look.
And besides, the more food I could bring on the bus, the better.
I called Kate again. And smiled again.
We were back on the buses just short of 10:00 PM. By Courounis' count we still had another two hours on the road. I settled into my seat; Keith, having just eaten, fell asleep. And so did a few others. The TV screen above me flickered on again, but it hadn't managed to capture my interest since Robin Hood: Men in Tights and X-Men had been on earlier that afternoon.
George murmered something to Tammy behind me. My jaw clenched a little, and I rolled over onto one hip in an attempt to get comfortable. I rescued my hat from my lap and began turning it over and over again in my hands. I stared at it blankly for what seemed like forever, then checked my watch again. The hands glowed back at me. 10:18 PM.
Feeling strangely philosophical, I slipped my hat back on and watched the stars roll away.
Each entry is one day, starting with the Thursday we left.
Thursday, April 22
Ow.
I squinted one eye against the light intruding through the coach window. Sighing and twisting in the seat, I grabbed the shade and yanked it down a good two-thirds of the way. A quick glance around confirmed that Drumline was still showing on the TV just above my head, that Keith was still riveted by the movie, and that my hat had fallen into the crack between the seat and the window. Which explained how the sunlight had gotten in my eyes and awakened me in the first place.
"Keith."
"What?"
"Hand me the box of Chan's almond cookies."
I grabbed my hat, smoothed it out, and placed it back on my head. Keith handed me the box of cookies. I'm fairly certain I've developed a mild addiction to them. A good one, since an entire box of forty cookies is only a $1.00 at the Dollar Tree in Tyngsboro.
Snapping my tray table down to hold the box, I inhaled a couple of cookies and raised the window shade up a notch so I could see the outside world. The so-called twisted steel of industry rose in the distance, mostly composed of skyscrapers, overpasses, and bridges. Nearer the bus and the edge of the highway were smaller bridges and overpasses, rolling green stretches of roadside grass and shrubs, and several trees. It was elegant, really, the way the grey of the city and the verdance of the life encircling it blurred together. This surprised me, mostly because I'd never really seen anything like this, and partly because "elegant" was the last adjective I ever would have chosen to describe New Jersey.
I watched the symbiosis of the city and the grasses for awhile, then turned my attention back to what was going on inside the bus. I half-twisted in my seat to get a look around - I can be annoyingly nosy like that - and, seeing and hearing nothing of interest, slouched back into the blue and grey upholstery. George was saying something in low tones to Tammy just behind me, but I didn't turn to look or strain to hear. George is one of my best friends and I love Tammy to death - and they were by no means being overly affectionate - but their couple-ish-ness was not something I really felt like dealing with at that moment. I cast my eyes up to the TV screen. The director guy was rebuking Devon (I think that was his name) for lying about being able to read music on his college application. Boring. I sighed again and wondered what time dinner might be.
We had stopped about an hour before at a McDonald's somewhere on the New Jersey Turnpike. From there I had called Kate - she was getting ready to leave NCSU for Nationals in Cazenovia (I think that's how you spell it), NY. It was the first time I'd smiled in three hours. Keith and George made their usual comments, and I made my usual comebacks. Our break wasn't long - It was more of a bathroom and stretching break than anything - but George and I split a box of fries. I'd wanted to buy more, but Keith advised me that I'd just be wasting my money, since we were going to stop for dinner a little farther down the road anyway. And Courounis would give us meal vouchers. For once in my life, the Jew in me stood victorious over the hunger. I wavered slightly on the way out - the vending machines had my absolute favorite, Hershey's with almonds - but it wanted $2.70 for it. No way.
On my way back to Blue Bus, I had contemplated the fact that my favorite candy bar is actually the fifth one on my list: 3 Musketeers, Kit-Kat, Milky Way, and Twix all come before it. Sadly, they all also now bear peanut advisory warnings. As do Twinkies.
I loved Twinkies.
Again, I wondered when dinner was going to be.
I leaned my head against the window, eye-to-eye with my own dark and featureless reflection, and watched a world torn loose ramble by. The air out there was electric, and everything had that surreal, dream-like quality that accompanies an overcast sunset. The wind blew obliquely through the treetops, stirring the leaves on the trees and pressing the longest blades of grass flat against the earth; the world glowed with the violet and crimson brilliance that lined the greying clouds overhead, the last vestiges of day that were trying as hard as they could to escape down to the ground and set it afire. It was both brilliant and subdued, crisp and smooth, orange and purple and many different shades of grey and blue. It was like I could see the light filtering down through the darkening sky above me, and at the same time, I couldn't. It's almost impossible to explain to someone who's never seen it before.
It was then that I wanted to walk down the concrete island that divided the highway, almost like a tightrope walker, toeing the line between waking and dreaming. I wanted to stand in the middle of the traffic swishing by in both directions, to absorb every fiber of dusk as it spilled across the highway. And I knew I had to be half asleep because I wanted to watch the headlights streak past me and the tail lights flare and fade away in the gathering night, I wanted to breathe in the twilight all along the turnpike - and this was New Jersey. I gagged and pulled my shirt collar across my face.
"Keith!"
"It wasn't me!"
Trust me, it very well could have been. New Jersey was a veritable breath of fresh air after sitting next to that kid for four hours on a bus. In his defense, however, his digestive tract was still adjusting to the massive amounts of junk food he was putting into it. He'd been off the stuff for months.
"On your left and right are the refineries," Walter said. "That's what's causing the smell - we should be outta here soon."
Walter was our coach driver. He was a cool guy.
He said a few things afterward - pointing this out on the left, and that out on your right, and if you look way down that way and peer through the mist over the water, you can see where the World Trade Center towers used to be - but I was too tired to pay attention to him by that time. It was eight o'clock and we hadn't hit Delaware yet, which meant we wouldn't be stopping for food for awhile. And I was damn hungry. Thankfully, Courounis was starting to pass out meal vouchers.
I ate a few more of Mr. Chan's almond cookies and, after a bit of searching, recovered my hat from the seat in front of me. The clouds were dissolving overhead, and as I watched the night pouring past the window, the internal bus lights came on.
It was at that point that the staring contest with my reflection resumed. But his brow was overshadowed by the black felt hat he was wearing, and behind his eyes the world slid serenely by.
***
"Weinstein."
Ungh.
"Weinstein."
"What?" It was Keith.
"Food."
I checked my watch. 9:12 PM. Fabulous.
It turned out that we were eating at the same rest stop we hit up on our way down to Williamsburg, VA two years ago. By the time we arrived most of the food outlets were closed, but I still managed to snag two double cheeseburgers and a large Coke from somewhere. Whatever that somewhere was, though, they had the coolest fry boxes I've ever seen. They were cardboard, shaped like gun holsters, and actually had slits cut in them through which a belt could pass. So, of course, I had to slide it onto my belt. I had the shirt, the jeans, the cowboy hat - I figured I'd complete the look.
And besides, the more food I could bring on the bus, the better.
I called Kate again. And smiled again.
We were back on the buses just short of 10:00 PM. By Courounis' count we still had another two hours on the road. I settled into my seat; Keith, having just eaten, fell asleep. And so did a few others. The TV screen above me flickered on again, but it hadn't managed to capture my interest since Robin Hood: Men in Tights and X-Men had been on earlier that afternoon.
George murmered something to Tammy behind me. My jaw clenched a little, and I rolled over onto one hip in an attempt to get comfortable. I rescued my hat from my lap and began turning it over and over again in my hands. I stared at it blankly for what seemed like forever, then checked my watch again. The hands glowed back at me. 10:18 PM.
Feeling strangely philosophical, I slipped my hat back on and watched the stars roll away.