There is no quiet car on the Megabus

A conversation in the back right corner of a DC Megabus

Twit #1: Is Minneapolis a mini-Annapolis?

Twit #2: Huh?

Twit #1: I mean, there's Annapolis. So, is Minneapolis a small Annapolis?

Twit #3: You're thinking of Indianapolis. That's in Indiana.

Twit #4: There's an Annapolis in Indiana?

Twit #1: There IS an Indianapolis, but I'm talking about Mini-Annapolis.

Twit #2: Mom, is Minneapolis a mini-Annapolis?

Chaperone:...Yes.

If the Long Island Cheerleading team didn't perform so well in DC, it's because I broke all of their legs.

My brother's blackberry during a two hour Baccalaureate Mass:

To: God
Sub: Mass
Message: Please make this end. Thank you.

Week 10: Will Work for Chocolates

Well, the gates of the Wonka Factory are finally closed once more. Let's take a look at what we've accomplished in the the past three months.

1. We managed to lock ourselves out of the company car, while it was still running
2. We performed in the Circus Capital of the nation.
3. We survived a night at the Robin Hood Motel.
4. We knocked a hole in the trailer in the middle of Montana.
5. We shake-weighted across the west coast.
6. We dipped our toes in the Pacific.
7. We got the seatbelt fixed! Only to have it break again...a week later.
8. We performed at the same theatre as Hall & Oates and Michael McDonald.
9. We became the non-equity Cabaret tour's ugly stepsister.
10. We went to the world's biggest fish fry in Tennessee.
11. We were surrounded by angels, unicorns, and fairies and other upsetting chachka in Sugar Loaf.

And at the end of it all, we can all confidently say, we tried as hard as we wanted to.

"This sucks. If only there was a Ruby Tuesdays"
"There IS a Ruby Tuesdays!"~Craig and I and exactly what we wanted on Cinco de Mayo.

Week 9: Home can be the Pennsylvania Turnpike

I dove headfirst onto the NJ transit train in NYC. I walked through the near empty train cars until I found a group of loyal employees congregating outside the train. I smiled my best “I’m clearly not from around here, could any of you fine gentleman help a girl out” smile and asked “Is this the train to Newark International?” Sizing me up in my Phillies t-shirt, one of the young men popped a piece of gum in his mouth. Orbit, if I’m not mistaken. “Yup,” he said. I kept my smile plastered on, “Thanks so much, ‘preciate it”. I flopped into my seat, embarrassed from already hopping on the wrong train once, and feeling oddly comforted by the tacky wood paneling and brown vinyl seats that is NJ Transit's signature. As the train pulled from the station my gum-chewing friend approached and took my ticket. I smiled—this time a small, tired “I’m a country gal exhausted from travelling in the bright lights of the big city” smile. It worked. “Newark airport, right? Third stop,” he said sympathetically, choosing not to notice that my ticket was expired or that I had rested my feet (black fiips flops, chipped hot pink nail polish) rudely on the seat in front of me. I find a good smile can do wonders on public transportation; especially after having a fifteen minute conversation with the cab driver over the difference between New York and Philadelphia cab drivers (While I have an inherent love of Philadelphia cab drivers, they do disconnect their meters far more than New Yorkers).

And then I was alone. I looked to my left, where sat my grey backpack. I’ve been wearing far too much grey lately, considering it’s not my color (although, who does grey really belong to?), but I examined it’s sturdy exterior. There’s a small tear from the place where I always keep my hairbrush and a small dent is visible from when I put my pack to close to a very hot make-up light in a dressing room in California. My Sigg bottle protrudes from the side, a constant and reliable companion that could never know how my heart breaks every time I am neglectful and it leaves me, only to return to me after several hours or days, willing to give me another chance. But besides the newscasters staring down at my from a Fox news ad ("Get to know us personally!" It said. No, thank you.), I am alone. There’s a certain calm in that. That you and your backpack could ride to the end of the line and take off. Of course you won’t. You have responsibilities and people who depend on you…but still the option is there. At the end of my trip, I sit at the parking station waiting for the shuttle. A station employee approaches at my right and asks “Where ya goin?” “Home,” I answer, more out of defense and instict than truth. “Where’s that?” He asks. I breath in the premature summer air and smell the rain as it wraps around my heart, slowing it’s ever accelerated beat to a calmer clip and smile to myself this time as I say, “Anywhere."

Sage: "Yvette, you ate chicken the other day! So you're only a vegetarian when you choose to be!"
Yvette: "That's right"
Me: "Isn't America wonderful?"~teaching children patriotism.