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| snapped 14 months apres initial voyage ( I took this picture supine, as if awaiting a game of emotional Operation..the unrelenting tweezers of time)... |
I am first on the bus and I try not to look like I am
pouting. Spencer follows skipping two seconds behind. He is wearing his fanny
pack. He is skipping like he doesn’t have a penis.
“Harry man you got Jim in trouble,man.”
I tell him I don’t care. As I look out the side window
I see Sir Charles is talking to Jim. It looks like
he is berating Jim although he isn’t yelling. Even though I can’t hear Sir
Charles through the windows on the bus you can tell that he is informing Jim
that he needs to take the trip more seriously.
“You did, Jim is really getting chewed out now. He
might even be put on the discipline bus.” Spencer tells me in the manner of an
informant.
I say good. I tell him why don’t you join him.
It wasn’t like yesterday in the elevator at the
Gloucester when I snapped. This time the entire group ibib Vivian, ibib Daisy,
ibib Frank McNulty the millionaire CEO of PARADE heard me go off on Jim. They
heard me curse. They heard me inform him sans any scent of decorum to quit snapping
panoramic vistas where he is purportedly dry humping national monuments.
\
To quit jacking around.
Groups filter back on the bus. Everyone is hushed.
Everyone heard me. I wonder if I am going get reprimanded for chewing Jim out.
From outside the window Jim is still looking down into his loafers as Sir
Charles speaks with him. I am thankful I
didn’t snap in front of Lynn Minton even though my chances of being interviewed
by Parade concerning worldly affairs is nil, even though I am semi-enraptured
and feel like I have somewhat of a rapport with the woman who is correlating
the group meeting.
I feel like I am in deep shit. It is fairly obvious
that Daisy’s group is gossiping when they get on the bus. The one African American on our bus in Daisy’s
group looks at me and smiles and then confers with her friend and begins to
giggle. Counselor Dan is refusing to look at me and because Josh emulates
counselor Dan he is refusing to look at me also. Roomy Justin enters the bus
swiping his chin back and forth, actually emitting a tsk sound as if he is shaming someone for an unwarranted sin in an
Amish community.
There is a silence.
Gravity has a heartbeat reminiscent of a muffled purr of an idling charter bus
The whole bus is waiting.
Jim is still being talked to outside by Sir Charles. The
entire bus is staring at one of our own
Finally Jim comes in followed by Sir Charles. They sit
in the front of the bus, next to Vivian. He is not looking back. He is looking
into the denim caps of his knees. Vivian notes that we need to hurry quite
along, we still have the tour of Westminster Abbey less we miss the changing of
the Guard.
It doesn’t look like Big Ben is waving at
us as we drive off and then cross Westminster bridge.
It looks Big Ben is giving us the finger.
***
For some reason I think of phuckhead Pflderer's asinine comment from the Journal Star.
I have a friend named Ben and he's really tall.
Tall.
***
The bus sashays across Westminster Bridge past the
finish line where Eammon Martin sprinted and kicked winning the London Marathon
in just seconds less than 24 hours ago. I am looking at myself in the
reflection of the window. Jim is still stationed to sit with Sir Charles, as if
by mandate. The day still looks like a Petoskey, the state rock of Michigan.
The state where both Daisy of the Daisy Train and Vegetarian Greta hail from. The
state University where Trevor and Sir Charles will graduate from less than a
month when the return home. The state where Jennifer Flood always goes out of
her way to talk dirty to me whenever I call Harmony.
The day started out in a branch of light as I was
running in tandem stride next to Mg Weaver and now it is trash-liner grey
Up close the houses of Parliament are striking. Prominent totemic botanical streaks screaming
in petrified growth shoot up forming the palace base of the geometric plateau.
The whole bus is facing the back of Jim’s neck. There is a round-about that Driver Chris
Circles while the BIG TEN remains reticent as Westminster Abbey erupts into
view. It looks like a Granite field goal. As I will learn is the case with St.
Paul’s Cathedral only one spire appears to have clock, like it is winking at
us, the other spire conceal a blank pupil, as if time is punctuated when we enter the abbey.
I don’t pay attention
when she mentions that the architectural entity we are pending to enter is
neither an Abbey or a Cathedral but what is classified Royal Peculiar.
She talks about the monarchy of England being
coronated at Westminster. She again mentions William the Conqueror. She mentions
Henry the 3rd in the 13th century constituting the
current Abbey. Suddenly I see lavender swirls encircling Vivian’s semi-ruddy
prominent British countenance. She is talking into a fairy microphone. She is
enunciating very thoroughly into a microphone with wings.
She is talking into a reverberating penis.
The bus is scuttling as if trying to get off in a
hurry. There is already a line at the door. Vivian says that we have special
passes and are allowed to forgo the line if we all just hurry up please. We are
the first bus out of the four buses to arrive She tells us that we do need to hurry since we
are running late for the Changing of the Guard. As I step off the bus I feel a
hand on my shoulder. It is Trevor. He doesn’t look pissed yet he is reeling me
aside.
“Hey Harry man, you gotta minute?”
I look down,
I tell Trevor yes I do.
Yes.
***
It is 2007 and
the trip was 14 springs ago and I am writing a book about everything that happed.
I am saving the pages on 3 ½ inch floppies.
I am scanning clipped Newspaper articles into the blinding buzz of the
scanner in the library where I work. The trip transpired half my lifetime ago.
It happened as if it were some of dream. As if a nocturnal pandering ferried me
to a place I have never been before surrounding me with bodies of love; elbows
of youth, dream of ambition and prosperity and hope and never dying, eschewing
the vagaries of time. It is sprig 2007 and my father who met me at the airport
upon my return is no more. It is spring 2007 and I have again just gotten my
heart broken by a girl who is my best friend, a girl whose beauty defies the definition
of pulchritudinal, a woman who married for God whose husband just happens to
come from money who didn’t have to win the Young Columbus to go to Europe every
summer while he was in high school.
It is 2007 and I drink 20 beers a day, as if something that I somehow lost is located at the bottom of each domestic aluminum silo I slam.
It is 2007 and I am trying to figure shit out. Trying
to discern what happened to everything we have ever wanted. Trying to go back
to the creative placenta that changed the discourse of my life.
It is spring 2007 and I am trying to figure out where we went
wrong.
***
Before Trevor begins to speak I immediately apologize.
“Trevor. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to publican snap
back there. It was immature. Ji just won’t let up. He was rattling his torso
and pretending that Big Ben was his hardon. He just wouldn’t let up. Even the
CEO of Parade and the guests at the front of the bus were looking at him like
they were embarrassed to be seen with him.”
We are directly underneath the statue of St. George
slaying the dragon. I wonder if I am in deep shit. Trevor is looking at me as
if he doesn’t know quite what to say.
“Look, Hair. I’m not here to reprimand you brother.
Jim has actually been out of control for most of the trip. You said what a lot
of people were feeling.”
I ask if Jim is in trouble. Trevor says that he is
going to be seated next to Sir Charles for the remainder of the day. I tell him
I’m sorry. I tell him I didn’t mean to get Jim in trouble. He says that Jim
chose to act inappropriate.
“We’ve already spoken to him several times about it.
Hopefully he’ll ship up after this.”
Now is my moment. I need to milk this for all it is
worth.
“Trevor, look I’m sorry man, it’s just…can’t I be on another
bus or something? I’m in London in Jim is making me feel like I’m in a locker
room. “
Trevor looks at me as if he doesn’t know quite what to
say.
“You are in London Harry. And your right Jim has been
waaaaaay out of control. He’s a good guy. He’s a member of the BigTen. But
you’re right.. He’s been way out of control. It isn’t fair to you or to a lot
of people that Jim has to act the way he does.”
I feel like crying. I am having a heart to heart with
Trevor.
“So I mean can I switch buses. Can I at least tag
along with an older group?”
Trevor bites his lip as if he is constipated while
really he is thinking.
“You know we can’t let you do that. It’s part of the
Young Columbus conduct
Trevor looks confused. He is looking up and down.
I tellya what Harry. You can hang out by yourself in
the Abbey. You can walk around. And You don’t have to eat dinner with us if you
don’t want to. I know you have friends on other buses.”
Trevor asks that when I do interact with Jim I just be
polite and if he does anything uncouth to quietly let him know instead of
cursing at him in front of the entire group.
I tell Trevor it is no problem.
Trevor says good. He gives me a little dab in the
shoulder.
We leave the shadow of St. George slaying the dragon.
We are the last two to enter Westminster Abbey.
Trevor, my counselor, is the first to say wow.
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