Megabus

My mom called me twice late this afternoon. When I checked my phone, I saw she left two voicemail messages within thirty minutes. I thought someone died. Who could've died, if my mom was the one calling? An aunt or uncle? Knowing my mom, it could be someone from my hometown whom she knows but I haven't seen or heard of since I lived there in 1992, whose name I may or may not recognize. ("Betty Freeman died of a brain hemorrhage...." she'll say, as I rack my brain to come up with a general age range and face for dear Betty. RIP, by the way.)

I finished putting Eamon to bed with the seventh reading in 24 hours of "Curious George Goes to the Hospital" (more on the inept animal care taking skills of the Man in the Big Yellow Hat coming in a future post) and called her back. No, no one died. But they are taking the bus across two states to visit us next month. Not just any bus, mind you, Megabus! Apparently this is a new-ish shuttle service targeted at people, like Joe and Mary Lou, who hate flying in and out of the world's second busiest airport. It leaves on time, arrives on time, and, unlike Greyhound, is not marketed to recently released convicts. Presumably my parents' fellow passengers will be families with kids and the semi- or fully-retired like themselves. My mom seems excited about it. My dad said, "well, if we don't like it on the way there, we can always walk back."

Oooh-kay then, see you at the bus stop.