Guess Who’s Driving the Bus?
I have a client who often asks what I think when he has to make a decision.
“What do you think? I trust you. You’re driving this bus.”
Immediately, I think of Mo Willems and his classic children’s story, Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus.
Can I drive the bus? Please?
I never get to do anything! he writes.
Desperate to be the driver, he offers to be his best friend and give him $5.00.
Friday, I paid $35 to take the TREPAC New Home Tour with four buses full of realtors and industry leaders.
I got up super early, wrote a post, got dressed and raced all the way to Lowe’s at Callahan and I10 to make sure I was on time. I even brought my own portable Starbucks cup, with a lid, and felt very, very organized for a change.
Just as we were about to board the bus, I noticed the platinum blonde, with her blingy bag, trying to exit the vehicle that brought her. The driver, who was not a pigeon, got out and jog trotted over to her side of the car. His hair was disheveled. He was wearing wrinkly khaki shorts that matched his plaid, prepster button-down and a smile that seemed to say, “Thanks so much for the adult sleepover.”
It may have been her husband, but those are usually more of a stop, drop and roll kind of thing. There’s no awkward parking lot goodbyes.
“I’ll call you.”
“I had fun.”
A longer, drawn out kiss followed and I’m not really sure what the exiting dialogue was, but when he pulled away, she walked over to where I was standing with a big smile from ear to ear.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Looks like it is. Making out in the parking lot before the bus tour? Nice.” I said smiling back. She informed me that he was her wake up call today, but accidentally slept through the alarm.
Can I drive the bus?
I never get to do anything!
As everyone else was scrambling to find their seat partners, I sorted through the variety of taco delicious, breakfast tacos from Taco Cabana and poured a combination of the green and red sauce all over my bacon and egg, downing it in about three large, not-so-lady-like bites.
The tour began and we headed northbound on I-10. We saw the pretty new garden homes that Japhet is building in Napa Oaks and it was about then when I heard the schedule and realized I signed up for a bus tour of the town where I actually live.
And that’s when I became the annoying girl on the bus, who didn’t want to drive the bus as much I wanted to be the tour guide with the microphone.
Desperately I longed to say, “Now if you’ll just look out the window on your right, you will see the road that leads past the city park to the Cibolo Nature Center, a don’t miss destination for all things fabulously nature.
I wanted to tell about The Cave Without A Name and the amazing fried pecan pie at Brantley’s 259. I wanted to share about the growing population and the new elementary and middle schools and our off the charts educational system.
It’s not that I don’t ever get to do anything, but seriously, who pays and signs up for a 4 hour tour, drives 30 miles into the city, only to be driven right back out to where they live?
I think of the 1970’s Guess Who album, Share the Land that I played on repeat with my big bulky headphones. That’s the one that has the Bus Rider song on it. I thought about that when I won a pair of ATT headphones in the raffle. Awesome! Thanks for that!
And I wondered if I’m paying close enough attention to all of the things I do and the way I make deciding choices. I wonder how many times we travel up and down the same roads, over and over again, before we realize how much it is costing us, in all of our exploring, and our dreams to find new roads.