“And now he won’t pay me!”
It took a couple years for my law practice to earn enough money to take a Florida vacation – and then only by Greyhound Bus to meet up with a friend who was flying down to move his mother-in-law back to Minnesota by U-Haul. Taking the Greyhound has always been something I enjoy for all the peace and quiet time it provides with intermittent stops for fun in the bigger cities. This trip I actually counted 96 professional sports teams in hockey, baseball, basketball and football and decided the Detroit Pistons had the most apt name of all. For example, the New York Rangers are not aptly named at all – having been the Eveleth Rangers (after the Mesabi Iron Ore Range denizens in Northern Minnesota) before the franchise was moved to New York City.
Well this particular trip started out with a little more excitement than usual. About 100 miles out of the Twin Cities the bus broke down and we all had to wait along the side of the road for a new bus to show up and finish the leg to Chicago. That was plenty of fun because the bus was crammed with college kids going to Florida for Spring Break and somebody had some weed. I’d already figured I’d use the Chicago lay-over to visit my favorite Picasso statue before getting back on the bus for the next leg to Indianapolis.
I was surprised when I got back on in Chicago that the college kids were no longer on the bus. Turns out there was an earlier connection that I had neglected in favor of the Picasso. There were only a half-dozen riders to Indianapolis, so I had my quiet time. In Indianapolis I went to the market and bought some lunch – salami, cheese, yogurt, some good rolls – and The Sporting News – to make and read on my expectant, few-passengers-quiet-leg to Nashville. Only in Indianapolis the bus got totally packed again. I had taken the furthest back seats to spread out a picnic lunch as every seat in front of me became filled. One last passenger got on with nowhere to sit except next to me in the furthest back row.
Tomorrow: The Alleged Blow Job