Bus Driver Diaries — Music of the Day

My daughter, a high school senior, likes to sleep as long as any other teenager. I have seen her get out of bed at noon. She is also well-practiced at early mornings. Last Friday I was to pick up the elite high school choir and band at 7:00 am. My daughter got up extra early to be with me while I fueled the bus and performed the pre-trip inspection. When I engaged the parking brake in the loading zone with its “Hushhhh” and opened the doors sleepy-eyed high school students began boarding. They carried music folders, instruments, blankets, and bags filled with snacks. One student lugged in a double-bass that was bigger than him. A girl followed holding her green-frog pillow close. Like all good high school students they gravitated toward the back of the bus. The double-bass got the coveted last two seats. Those students who were planning on sleeping chose seats in the middle of bus where it would be quieter.

Finally everyone was loaded—except for one. He hadn’t arrived.

“I know he’s in bed asleep,” said the choir director in a resigned voice. “Anyone have his number?”

Someone in the back of the bus yelled, “He doesn’t have a phone. Neither does his house.”

“What?” Several people including the choir director asked the question. Not having a phone today is almost rude.

The choir director hesitated a moment, the she said, “Let’s go get him.”

We drove across town and up his street. In front of his home I pulled the parking brake with relish. I loved the sound on the sleeping street.

“I have an air horn,” I said, reaching for the cord. I was mostly teasing. All the houses on the street were dark, including the neighboring house with the highway patrol car parked out front.

“Let’s just send someone to pound on the door,” said the choir director.  The boy we were missing was on the football team. We sent out a fellow team member. We could hear him pounding on the door over the idling engine of the bus. Eventually a light turned on and the door opened. I caught a glimpse of a long nightgown. We had awoken his mother. Not two minutes later the sleeping beauty came bounding onto the bus with his favorite red-fuzzy pillow. His classmates cheered. With him now on board, we were off on our eighty mile journey. These students had been selected to be a part of the honor choir and band along with top musicians of nine other schools.

In Richfield I dropped the band student’s at the high school. I took the choir students a few blocks south to the middle school. This brought back memories.  Thirty-three years earlier I had been in the high school band and choir. A bus driver had dropped me off at All-State events for a day of music. Then, I hadn’t foreseen the day when I would be driving a bus and seeing the face of my seventeen-year-old daughter in the rear-view mirror among the other kids.

It must be strange when your dad is he bus driver for a high school trip. If he was cool looking maybe it would be all right. I’m not so cool looking. I’ve got a flattop haircut and a baby beer belly even though I don’t drink beer. My fashion sense is lacking and my clothes are non-descript.  My daughter doesn’t seem to mind even though she is beautiful and fashionable. Once our eyes met when I glanced in the rear-view mirror and she smiled at me.

I loaded the students for lunch and dropped them off at a shopping center where there were lots of places to eat. I didn’t have any cash to give my daughter for lunch. She was going to have to stay with me if she wanted to eat. I saw a Pizza Hut and told my daughter we would eat there. I love Pizza Hut’s Pepperoni Lover’s pizza. When the last person got off the bus, I shut the door and turned to find six kids with my daughter.

“Looks like we have a group, Daddy,” she said, happily.

I hadn’t expected this. Instead of the nice, quiet lunch with my daughter I would be the adult tag-along to her and her friends. Actually, I like being with groups of teens.  I feel comfortable with them. The problem is they don’t feel comfortable with me. I’ll wonder why, when I try to engage them in conversation, I feel reticence on their part. Then I remember, “Oh, yeah. I’m an adult. They’re uncomfortable with their friends’ fathers.” I’m prepared to stay quiet during lunch and let them do their thing. I didn’t stay quiet. When our server spilled a tray of six drinks at our table conversation opened up. I was able to get to know my daughter’s friends a little better during lunch. I probably talked too much. My daughter, who sat next to me, didn’t appear concerned.

On the way back to the bus my daughter laughed as she told me, “Some of the kids knew you were my dad. Others figured it out. The rest are wondering why I’m hanging with the bus driver.”

It was eight-o-clock when they finished their evening rehearsal. It was very dark outside. I had the bus going and the lights on when the kids started boarding.  Somewhere in the middle of the line of kids my daughter climbed on. She stopped the line long enough to kiss me on the cheek. What a sweet thing that kiss was. Her kiss made a rather plain, middle-aged man with a flattop feel like a million dollars. It was like she was asking the other students, “Don’t you wish your Dad were here?”

I had sat in on the choir’s evening rehearsal. The guest conductor was very talented. He pulled the kids together and drew beautiful music from their throats and hearts. I felt lucky to witness this coming together of voices and souls. It was on the long drive home that the music of the day became even more beautiful. My daughter felt like talking to me. She moved up to the seat right behind mine. For eighty miles I heard the music of her voice in my right ear as we chatted about the things on her mind.  All of the kids had had a wonderful experience throughout the day. For me, I think it was the best school trip ever.