The Bus Ride To Camp

One of Bunny's boys told me last night that his youth group played movies on long bus trips.

I'm indignant.

How could they take away from the kids the best part of any outing, the long drive?

Am I alone here? Wasn't that half the fun? Writing, 'We didn't want to get on the bus, we don't know where they're taking us, please help' on a sheet of notebook paper and holding it up to the window and trying to keep from giggling while other drivers gave it a double take, wasn't that fun thats not to be missed?

Do I just sound like an old woman here, because I think it was better when we played guessing games, and sang along to songs and scribbled endless MASH games?

Picking just the right seat, next to your Best Friend Forever (or at least that summer), but in view of the Love Of Your Life (or at least that summer).

Waiting four and a half minutes after the bus driver has pulled out of the pick-up spot to yell, "Are we almost there?"

Waiting four and a half minutes after the bus driver has pulled back onto the freeway after a potty stop, to yell, "I have to pee!"

The rebellious joy of reading all the nasty words written on the backs of the seats.

The simple joy of waving to complete strangers, trying to get them to wave back.

Quickly launching a bouncy ball above the heads of the other kids, so that it bounces all over the bus in utter chaos, then practicing your very best innocent face.

Getting the biggest soda they sell at Burger King, then realizing that the bus doesn't have cup holders and having to hold it between your legs the rest of the way, and having numb thighs.

Feeling a little carsick, but distracting yourself from it by mocking any of the other kids that looked carsick.

Playing poker and feeling so rebellious.

Begging the bus driver to stop at the farm that says, "Cows for sale" because you wanna buy a cow. For your mother.

When you were really young and clutched your favorite stuffed animal in your lap the whole way, to when you got a bit older and it sat next to you on the seat, to your mid teens when it peaked out from the top of your backpack?

Planning your outfits for the week, so that you could coordinate with your BBF (of the summer).

Driving home, already writing a letter to your BBF or LOYL (of that summer) and staring out the window, remembering the game you won, the boy that kissed you behind the snack shop*, or the night you stayed out late with the girls and giggled for hours about stuff you can barely remember already, and wondering how on earth can you go home.

*not a euphamism.