The Bus To Boone Hall Plantation

Last week, unaware of the rose-colored glasses attached to my face, I volunteered to travel with my eldest son’s class to Boone Hall Plantation in Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina. I thought this might be the last time I could attend a field trip with him before starting teaching in August, so I had this idealized notion of spending quality time with my son while simultaneously feeling much (but not entirely) like Scarlett O’Hara.

If only the glasses had stayed on for the actual trip.

The crux of the problem that morning essentially revolved around coffee. Before we left, I spent some pre-coffee moments deliberating (a dangerous venture on my part) how to time my coffee intake on the trip.

Some of you know that this is what you are reduced to when you have three babies and get old. Among other things, you spend exorbitant amounts of time figuring out how to optimize your coffee intake.

I knew I’d be on the bus for quite a while, as we all know even a bus ride to the local post office with elementary students can take 12 times as long as it does going by yourself in a zero horsepower 1970s station wagon. Unfortunately, on average, after drinking a cup of coffee, I’m ready to “refresh” myself after about five minutes. I learned this last winter when LCB and I tried taking long morning walks on the beach with a cup of coffee in hand. Unless I decided to resort to Depends, it wasn’t going to work especially well.

So in this case, if I drank the coffee too early, I’d need to use the restroom for the majority of the ride. But, I was also low on sleep, so if I drank it well before the trip and the effects of the caffeine wore off too soon, I feared falling asleep on the bus. Beyond the obvious embarrassment of sleeping on a bus amid a group of third graders, I have the great misfortune of sleeping with my mouth open when I sleep sitting up. Trust me, I’ve faced countless ridicule from LCB, various family members, and other people on the road over this nasty little habit. So I was guessing there would be nothing quite like sealing my poor son’s reputation for years to come by being the mom who sat catching flies with her mouth the entire way to Boone Hall.

When I explained my dilemma to LCB, he pointed out, “Didn’t they say this was going to be a chartered bus? Because chartered buses usually have bathrooms on them. I wouldn’t worry about it at all.” He might take umbrage with the “at all” part of my retelling of his last statement, but I know in my heart that it’s accurate.

My experience with chartered buses is extremely limited, but I had suspected as much myself. And while I knew enough to know it would still be prudent to avoid the restroom on the bus, if possible, for what I feel are legitimate sanitary obsessions concerns, at least it would be available if needed.

So I forgot about the coffee dilemma, drank two-thirds of my cup on the way to school, and headed for the bus when we arrived. On a whim, as I was stepping on the bus, I asked the driver about the restroom.

“Yes, ma’am, there is a restroom, but it’s not hooked up,” he answered.

“Oh,” I smiled awkwardly, while thinking, “Lovely. Just stunningly lovely.” Then there was a rush of students behind me, and within a couple of minutes, we were off.

The bus, by the way, did not look like any of the few chartered buses I’ve taken before. Instead, it was just an old school bus where they had ripped out the standard seats and added slightly plusher seats with an 80s geometric pattern to the fabric and a tiny bathroom that I suspect was never hooked up in the first place.

As we left the school, I suddenly looked down and realized I still had a third of my coffee, sitting in a lidless cup.

This is why men are stupid and the women who listen to them are even stupider.

So there I sat, now fully irritated, knowing that I clearly shouldn’t finish my coffee given the bathroom realities I was facing, but also realizing it meant I’d have to hold the partially-filled cup the entire way to Boone Hall.

I couldn’t help it. I called LCB and gave him the play by play. Naturally, he laughed as he sat drinking his coffee, within a few feet of a perfectly functional restroom himself.

Then, mid-conversation, with my phone in one hand and my coffee in the other, the bus hit a bump, and my coffee went flying all over my hands, face, shirt and jeans. Seriously, that coffee traveled. LCB gave off the appearance of silent support, but I know he was roaring under that mute button he’s so adept at using, especially as he knew his encouragement to drink my coffee with reckless abandon was what had gotten me into my predicament.

At the time of the spill, we hadn’t even been on the bus for five minutes. So, I spent the rest of the trip still holding the one inch of impertinent coffee that decided to remain in my cup, waiting for the coffee on my clothing to dry and needing hooked up facilities.

The plantation itself was lovely, lovely enough for a post of its own, without the restroom drama overshadowing it, so I’ll post the details about it shortly and separately.