It Was A Dark And Snowy Night
And my first sorority run of the year - I used to do about one every four to six weeks, but with driving trips regularly those four hour gigs don’t fit in the schedule so well. It was snowing lightly, the kind of snow that melts during the day and freezes when the sun goes down. The streets were slick, even for the 13 ton bus.
The gig is easy. Drive the sorority girls from the dorms to the Mad Italian and back; the ultimate designated driver. It’s a short drive through narrow downtown streets. There is usually a theme, this time it’s super heros and girls are dressed in tights, capes and boys’ briefs and even fish net stockings. A few boys are invariably in the mix with a couple of scantilly clad incredible hulks and the underdog couple.
The Mad Italian is on the West side of a one way street. That puts the door out in the street which is something one tries to avoid when letting people on and off. I choose to go around the block to drop the kids right at the door on the right side. On the first run I drive up tiny Leroux street, through the large dip that looks wet and surely would become dangerous as the night wears on. There is a stop sign at the top of the hill on the other side of the dip. I finish the first run, uneventful - just like it should be.
The second trip up Leroux turns out to be the last. I drive up the incline, stop at the sign at the top of the hill and drop the transmission down into first. As I accelerate the bus slowly creeps - backward. A couple more tries and my success is the same. I peer through the back window steamed with the breath of fifty young men and women. No lights. I flip on my hazards, drop the bus into reverse and inch it back to the bottom of the dip. Once level, I switch back to first and creep back up the hill and around the corner. The guys whoop like I just raced up the hill at 60 mph, but it was more like 3.
Later in the evening as I’m waiting for a full load to drive back to the dorm, I notice police walking around shining their flashlights in cars and up the street. Flagstaff’s best known strip club, The Joint, is across the street from where I’m sitting. Off and on I see police cars stopped in the street with their lights going. It’s a Friday night of course.
Before too long, I’m startled by sirens coming up the street in front of me. A small foreign looking car pulls toward the curb as the slow speed chase comes to an end with the trailing cop car pulling right up on the bumber, preventing him from backing out. Another patrol car is in the right lane blocking the remaining traffic. Not ten feet from me police jump out of their cars, guns pulled. With very little resistance the driver is out of the car cuffs around his wrists and he’s being searched. More cop cars show up. From my vantage point, which is partially blocked by the building, I make out maybe eight different cars from DPS, city, Sheriff’s Department and the state gang task force. The road in front of me is blocked and I begin to wonder how long I will be stuck.
It turned out to be not so long. The commotion cleared up and once again the most exciting part of the evening was caped college girls.
