DUI

The Chool Bus (ch14)

CHAPTER 14: Professor T steps in it again and Billie arranges a mineral hot spring rendezvous with a kindred spirit.

Billie Schmidt has a reliable method for combating driver fatigue common in her family. Her dad was notorious for nodding behind the wheel. And though never a traffic tragedy, he did send family members into a state of watchful vigilance and maybe that’s why. And so Billie had several mitigations aimed at setting passengers at ease. “Sunflower seeds and citrus-infused seltzer,” she said when Jack marveled at her stamina behind the wheel.

Today however, Billie is on a mission… get to Missoula and get settled so she can duck out in the morning for some hot springs action, a’la natural.  And since they would be close, she made a mental note to contact an old friend from the wild days, MollyG. Their talent was staying out of jail by sheer will and MacGyveresque creativity. And so MollyG would meet the forks at the RV park, then spirit Billie away in her Mini Cooper…more of a covered roller skate than a car…but the gals didn’t need much as they were planning to soak, again, a’la natural. 

The site, located in Idaho’s Clearwater National Forest, a popular, accessible, undeveloped, clothing-optional natural spring. Three rock-lined pools nestled in a forest setting along a half-mile hike. It would take a couple hours to get there from the Missoula campground. A mostly unspoiled, natural, soak in the woods experience with no developed infrastructure, only user-made, rock-bottomed pools… and yes, clothing optional.

Billie was known and admired by many for her brave self-possessed countenance, and she had friends everywhere. But this detour was not something the rest of the Forks were prepared to endure so she was grateful MollyG was available for the outing.

She reached for the seeds and soda, just in case, but didn’t really need them today as she was anxious to meet up with MollyG for a blissful catch-up session. She chuckled with a wide grin reflecting on some of the things that should have but somehow didn’t land the gals in jail back in the day. Like the time they drove Molly’s VW Bug into the porch lattice of one of the neighborhood Mother-in-law cottages. It was an accident, truly, but alcohol might have played a role.

It’s not that the gals were overtly testing the boundaries of what smokin’ hot party girls could get away with…

…more a tale of skant drivers-ed attentiveness and a faulty clutch on the bug. That said, they were fairly sure the boys in her class would have been subjected to the sobriety dance, had their cooler confiscated, and written up for DUI. None of these things happened to Billie and MollyG. 

Billie fixed her gaze down the road. Thoughts of all the straight guys pestering them back in the day, and how they (the fellas) resembled embarrassed peacocks upon finding out the gals were unavailable filled her with nostalgia, a slight smile. Billy let out a shallow sigh. Sunflower seeds, citrus infused seltzer,  wistful reminiscings, and Sam Jackson to keep her heading down the right roads… what more could she ask for?

Meanwhile, Professor T was getting agitated by the Zoom conference he had endured the last hundred miles. It was an attempt to mediate a settlement regarding some alleged improper behavior toward long-time administrative manager, Abigail Weiser. Ms Weiser’s attorneys, Scheizer and Bok, had convinced Ms Weiser she should sue for punitive damages, alleging she could have advanced to a higher position at the university in the absence of Professor T’s bogus appeals, power imbalanced intimidation, and non-consensual groping. Of course, this was a believable allegation as Professor T had been committed to bachelor life ever since the dissolution of his only marriage. As far as the Forks knew, Professor T would go to the grave single harboring absolutely no regrets or aspirations for a different fate.

He finally snapped… there would be no settlement. “You’ll get a grand total of nothing, not a single penny from me, you two-bit ambulance chasing charlatans!” He was addressing Ms Weiser’s attorneys, nearly screaming into the headset microphone. “We’ll see you in court!” Professor T probably should have held his composure as this outburst was also witnessed by Ms Weiser and the court-appointed mediator. 

“Now now, temper temper,” Jack was starting to get worried for Professor T’s blood pressure.

“Lemmie at ‘em!” Billie piped in with her characteristically sanguine moral support.

Buck moved a little closer to the red-faced Mork Thompson asking if there was anything he could do to help the good professor navigate what was clearly becoming a career threatening, potential legal minefield. “In fact,” Professor T finally cooling off some shook his head slightly. “I think i need more intel… these shysters are leading Abigail down the road to perdition.”

“Say no more!” Buck knew a Corpus Christi couple in the business of gathering competitive intelligence (read: domestic surveillance and clandestine spycraft). “Head ‘em up… move ‘em out… them yella-bellied varmints are gonna have to deal with karma, Texas style.” Buck was channeling his inner gun slinger.

“Are we there yet?” Jack was eager to change the subject.

NEXT WEEK:
Billie and MollyG enjoy the steamy Clearwater Mineral Pool and Coeur d’Alene turns out bland as any mid-sized white-bread college town.

GO BACK => Preface and Chapter Links

This Land: Wyoming

Ronnie Hays, bless his late-developed soul, once spent a week in Riverton, Wyoming that felt like a lifetime trapped in a malfunctioning deep freeze. December in that desolate outpost was a symphony of howling wind and sub-zero temperatures, a perfect recipe for laryngitis. Ronnie, fueled by a steady diet of codeine cough syrup and a delusional dream of rockstardom, had the brilliant idea to chase his nonexistent high notes across a stage the size of a postage stamp. Needless to say, it went about as well as a penguin tap-dancing competition on the moon.

Fast forward a couple of years. Ronnie, now liberated from the shackles of his musical aspirations, found himself partnered with a gonzo comrade, Fozzy. (We’ll christen him Fozzy for the sake of anonymity… let’s just say we’re super glad there was no Facebook in the 80s.)

Fozzy, a Laramie-educated savant with a graduate school acceptance letter burning a hole in his pocket, held a peculiar belief: that Laramie, Wyoming, was a magical land where cops were blind to the transgressions of the gloriously intoxicated. This, of course, was a theory ripe for testing by two nihilistic souls clinging desperately to the wreckage of their mid-80s existence.

Imagine, if you will, a “borrowed” car (ownership and registration a fiction at best), fueled by cold beer (courtesy of the nearest liquor store), hurtling towards Laramie like a pair of wobbly missiles. The speedometer, a mere suggestion, registered a healthy too-damn-fast, a testament to their utter disregard for both the law and their own mortality.

Several beers and a vanished sunset later, they rolled into Laramie like banshees on Adderall. To their utter disappointment, the flashing blue lights they so richly deserved remained stubbornly absent. Finally, in a moment of glorious absurdity, Fozzy managed to run a red light, narrowly missing a cop car pulling out of a parking lot.

“Well, this is it,” Ronnie chuckled, fresh with “i told you so” energy dancing in his eyes. Busted! Hauled off to the drunk tank! A glorious, self-inflicted martyrdom!

The officer, a woman with a withering gaze that could curdle milk, approached Fozzy’s window. The story Fozzy concocted to explain their lack of documentation was a masterpiece of nonsensical bravado, worthy of a Bugs Bunny episode. Miraculously, it worked. The officer, perhaps amused by the sheer audacity of it all, subjected Fozzy to a “sobriety dance” (how he passed remains a mystery). Deemed sufficiently non-threatening, they were banished from her sight with a stern warning and a $25 fine, payable through a conveniently located “after hours” slot at the courthouse.

And so Fozzy’s theory is field-tested and determined factually sound. Or perhaps, Laramie had simply taken pity on these two hapless fools.

Anyway… enough ancient history, as Garth Algar once said… “LIVE IN THE NOW!”

So what of Wyoming now? Well, it’s a land of contradictions. The “Equal Rights” motto proudly proclaims a progressive past, yet some grapple with its present-day relevance. Natural wonders like Yellowstone leave visitors speechless, while the wind in Riverton can leave you speechless… and possibly frostbitten. Thermopolis, however, boasts hot springs that could soothe even the most cynical soul, as Ronnie himself discovered on his later, decidedly less gonzo, tour. The locals cherish their independence and self-reliance, but there’s a growing discussion about the need for more higher education options. Famous figures like Esther Hobart Morris and J.C. Penney stand as testaments to Wyoming’s spirit, while economic mainstays like tourism and resource extraction raise questions about environmental responsibility.

In the end, Wyoming offers a unique tapestry: breathtaking beauty, a fierce sense of self, and a touch of the wild west. And yes, while Fozzy’s theory about DUIs in Laramie may have held some truth back in ’86, we’re pretty damn sure you can get one now.

Onward through the fog… R.H.

And now…
Another step up the Tower of Song…
With apologies to Woody Guthrie…
And Leonard Cohen.

For Nature’s Wonders…
And personal liberty…
Don’t look far…
It’s in Wyoming…
Declare your freedom…
And let your freak flag fly…
Equal Rights are stamped upon its seal.