Part 1.
For the next few weeks, the Loser Cruiser will be driven by a substitute driver while its regular driver, Deane, visits with his son who is on leave from the military. I don’t know the new driver’s name but she seems nice and unlike the regular Friday morning driver Steve, she actually knows how to drive a big bus and how to drive on the highway.
Tuesday morning, I was the lone passenger as we departed the B’town bus station. Monday morning, the driver had to ask where to make one of the turns but by Tuesday, having memorized the route completely, her only question was whether or not to stop to pick up a man standing at a bus stop on the side of the road. Without hesitation, I said, “no, he’s waiting for another bus. Deane always waves to him as we pass him.” I was alarmed at how familiar I’ve become with the route and routine.
A few minutes later, I instructed the driver to stop for the silver-haired Daddy Sutherland standing on the side of the road nowhere near a bus stop. I’m not particularly fond of this man, a state senator, but I figured it was my civil responsibility to make sure he made it to work on time. Not coincidentally, I was reminded of a recent conversation I overheard him having with another state senator in which he said, “sometimes you have to vote for the things you disagree with in order to make sure the ones you really want pass.”
As the bus made its way onto the highway and its patrons cozied into their seats for their morning nap or read, I wondered what it must feel like to be a substitute driver. For all I know, she’s only been hired until Deane returns in which case, what must it feel like to do a job efficiently while lacking any job security whatsoever and never knowing if the seat you’re sitting in is a temporary or a permanent one? And if you were worried you were only in a temporary job, would you have it in you to do the job well?
Part 2.
Wednesday was Othello’s 4th birthday. To accommodate everyone’s schedules (including my own), I scheduled a birthday party for Tuesday night. After spending the first half hour eating and talking and letting Othello get used to so many people in the apartment, my mother, Sarah the L, Smoochie Poo, Jay Peak, CAT, Hypothetical, Montana Girl, Surfboard Guy, and I quietly sang happy birthday to the kitty while Smoochie Poo carried into the room a food dish with Fancy Feast and a lit candle in it.
After Othello ate a little of his birthday “cake” and while he went to the bathroom 5 or 6 times (he’s a nervous kitty and his bladder goes crazy whenever he’s nervous), I opened his presents for him. Considering that Othello was able to cope with an apartment full of people and then he spent most of the night playing with his new toys, I think it’s safe to say the party was a success.
Afterwards, after most everyone had left, I sat there with Sarah the L and Smoochie Poo, playing catch up for all the time we’ve lost now that Sarah no longer works with me. At one point, she asked me if I would be willing to watch her kitty for a day or two this weekend while she and Smoochie traveled to Connecticut. Considering I had no way of getting to her apartment, I had to regretfully decline. This prompted Sarah to wonder if her indoor kitty would be OK alone for two days. I reminded her of what I had heard about cats: most cats, after being left alone 2-3 days, believe their food supply has been cut off and start looking for a new home. So while her kitty wouldn’t be able to escape, she would most certainly greet Sarah’s return with a very cold shoulder.
Part 3.
This next part, I’m surprised to say, I’m finding incredibly difficult to write. Last night, as is always the case on the second Wednesday of every month, was Trivia Night. My team, the Hotties, gathered for yet another attempt at the Trivia Crown. Our team consisted of myself, CP, CP’s mother, CP’s brother and his girlfriend. Sadly, Sarah the L was not in attendance. The night started without fanfare as we barely found an open table at which to sit. We were surrounded by obnoxiously drunk legislators and for a brief moment, I considered packing it in and calling it a night. But then…
After the first three rounds, One Flew Over the Hotties Nest (our name for the night) found itself alone atop the leader board with a perfect score. Only after the next two rounds when, unlike past Trivia Nights, we found ourselves just one point out of first place, did we begin to think something different was happening. And even then, we were prepared to lose. You see, we Hotties are accustomed to losing. We’re like Cubs’ fans and our motto has always echoed what a summer beer league softball coach once told my team: “It’s not whether you win or lose, it’s HOW you lose that matters.”
I’ve spent the last three years of my Trivia Night life crafting email invitations and recaps detailing every which possible way we Hotties could lose. And this is why I’m having trouble finding the right words to say. How do you say “we won”? After so many times trying and failing, after so many close calls and near misses, after so many nights when you dared fate by trying to glimpse into your glorious future, after so many heart-breaking finishes, how do you say you won? I think I’m unable to find the right words because I’m in shock and I’m having trouble accepting the reality. I expect to wake from this dream. But man, oh man, what a sweet dream it is.
Benchly'sword 