RV park

The Chool Bus (ch28)

CHAPTER 28: All agreed, the backtracking detour to Lake Tahoe was worth the trouble, but it was time to get back to business. Eleven punishing hours to Flagstaff Arizona for the next round of focus-group interviews… then, a trip to the deepest crack in the USA, the Grand Canyon.

Passing through Vegas on the way to Flagstaff, Billie agreed to turn the wheel over to Buck as eleven hours was about, “three more than i can stand.” Billie knows her limits and Buck was more than happy to help. So rolling into the Las Vegas area after seven plus hours with Billie behind the wheel, the Forks pulled over to get some fresh air, stretch their legs, and catch a meal before pushing the rest of the way to Flagstaff with a new pilot. Just a little more than three hours and they’d climb above the punishing heat of the desert to the cooler climate at seven-thousand feet. The smell of pine, the lush green lawns… Flagstaff Arizona. Focus-group interviews at Northern Arizona University were scheduled for the next couple days, so they couldn’t afford to dawdle.

Professor T spent a considerable chunk of road time working with the data so far gathered and catching up on administrative tasks. Occasionally he would confer with Jack over themes emerging in the data. These conversations were often quite spirited. It’s not that they were at odds over their perspectives, but they did have sometimes diverging ways to interpret what the participants were saying. Which is fine, these interviews can’t be used to draw objective conclusions, but they do provide an interesting “why” behind the numbers revealed in survey data. The surveys show what people do or think on a large scale, and the focus groups allow Professor T and Jack to hear how people explain these choices in their own words.

Merging onto Interstate 40 in Kingman Arizona, Billie got a jump-scare when Jack slammed his fist on the table making a particularly passionate point in one of those “spirited” conversations with Professor T. But Mork just laughed and brushed it off with a shrug. They’d have to agree to disagree. And Billie was awake now and rather impressed with Buck’s cool demeanor as the Bus encountered road construction and slowdowns. So much so that she began to quiz him over this uncanny ability to bring tempers down in situations that look like certain escalations to violence. This was refreshing for Billie as she is famous in her home town for a short temper and a withering vocabulary. Her method of de-escalation has always been to wear her opponents down with withering truth-telling generously seasoned with caustic, paint peeling accuracy.

“How do you do it?” Billie piped up out of nowhere.

“Do what?” said Buck with a sly grin.

“How did you turn that raging drunk in Fort Collins into an agreeable bystander?” Billie had marveled at the swift turn of events that day when Professor T appeared to have triggered a drunk and paranoid bar patron into a brawl, one that looked like it was going to land several bystanders into the urgent care clinic, at best.

“Well, it’s really simple when you look closely. I picked it up from a friend. He was a civilian contractor working in Afghanistan in the late stages of US involvement. Apparently he had spent some time with a detachment of special forces soldiers. And one of them taught him a way to defuse potential deadly confrontations with the locals. He boiled it down to an acronym, D-E-F-U-S-E. First, you have to short circuit your own “fight or flight” impulse, by remaining completely calm, and avoiding a defensive or argumentative stance. So ‘D’ is for de-escalate. After all, we are at bottom, animals. And this version of the mammalian animal is all et up with the hubris to consider themselves “civilized.” We’ve really only had a few thousand years to evolve from slithering in the grass to finding sanctuary in the trees, to walking upright, to developing food production for communities, to splitting the atom and other methods of habitat destruction. Not even a blip in geologic time. So, anyway, gotta tame the instinct. Most freeze in the face of an in-your-face threat. They don’t know whether to fight, or run. But the right thing to do is to remain calm no matter what.”

“Is that hard to do?” Billie was tumbling… catching her breath.

“Well, it may look that way, but considering the alternative, especially when others are involved. Others you care about and don’t want to see hurt, it really is a no-brainer. So… what’s the next letter in the DEFUSE acronym?” Buck was bringing Billie along.

“Well, we did ‘D’ so now we need ‘E,’” said Billie.

“Right.” said Buck. “‘E’ stands for empathize. You have to acknowledge and validate your opponent’s feelings or frustration. You gotta show ‘em that you recognize their emotional state. Anger, humiliation, wrath, whatever. Empathize with the prevailing emotional winds coming from your would-be attacker.”

“Ok…what’s the ‘F’ stand for?” Billie was eating this up. And they had plenty of time as Flagstaff was still hours down the road.    

“”F’ is for focus. This is where we direct our attention completely on our would-be attacker and the specific problem that seems to be driving them. This requires us to overlook our opponent’s attempts at provoking us with insults or threatening postures, personal attacks, or simple incoherent noise.” 

Billie was silent pondering the implications of the discipline it would take for her to ignore those personal attacks. She nodded solemnly.

“After that,” Buck went on. “You have to genuinely understand where this person is coming from… the ‘U.’ Again, this takes mental discipline for those of us used to throwing hands, or in your case, withering truth-bombs. So… the ‘U’ is a difficult state to arrive at when all you want to do is turn this person’s face into a pudding.” Buck winked and Billie laughed out loud.

“So now,” Buck was warming up to a conclusion. “Now it’s time to ‘S,’ solve the problem that brought the threat up to your face.”

“Solve?” Billie was incredulous. This all seemed somewhat fanciful. “After all,” she went on. “Some people just want to hurt others. They aren’t always interested in accepting reasons to keep their hands to themselves.”

“True story,” said Buck. But, there’s going to be a bottom-line reason for this irrational wish. And depending on your luck in the previous phases of the DEFUSE model, you may be able to tap into that wellspring.”

“C’mon…” Billie was struggling with these ideas.

“Bear with me,” said Buck. “Remember the reason for the dust-up in Fort Collins?”

“Yes. I believe he was angry with the world over a perceived, or literal loss of privacy… modern digital life.” Billie remembered actually identifying with the drunk’s complaint. “He saw Professor T’s audio recording rig, and that triggered a vengeful response. He was going to take this general feeling of violation and loss of control out on good ol’ Mork T.”

“Right,” said Buck. “But i was able to get him to face the absurdity of punishing a well-meaning, but absent-minded civilian for his general feelings of helplessness with the DEFUSE method.”

Billie nodded.

“So, to review,” Buck was sounding more like Professor T with every sentence. “We started with the ‘D.’

 “De-escalate!” said Billie.

“Right,” said Buck. “We refuse to allow the heat of the moment raise our emotional temperature.”

“Then you empathized with the guy.” Billie was playing along.

“The whole time, i remained focused on the fella’s problem,” said Buck. “That, right there, was almost enough to end the trouble.”

“But WAIT… there’s more!” Billie was starting to let some sarcasm show.

“Right, we’re not done yet,” said Buck, totally unmoved. “And keep in mind, these things don’t necessarily happen in sequence. You have to stay focused through the whole process, you have to remain empathetic start to finish, and understanding may take a little while to set in, but you have to keep digging for it.”

“So…what’s the ‘S’ for?” Billie was impressed with Buck’s ability to parry her jabs.

“Well, ‘S’ and ‘E’ sorta come together. ‘S’ is for solving the problem. Once the Fort Collins fella understood Professor T’s recordings had a purpose other than spying on hapless bystanders, he calmed down. Now, ‘E’ is for end the encounter. But it isn’t as simple as it sounds, there has to be clearly articulated next steps, and these next steps, when done right, are always voiced by our would-be attackers. In other wards, the confrontation is defused and the other person walks away feeling vindicated, the stable, positive outcome conceived by them.”

“So, BOOM! Resolution appears to have been conceived by the person that was threatening you in the first place?” Billie purred in amazement.

“Of course,” said Buck. “It doesn’t always end so cleanly, but fortunately for you and Jack and Mork T, the DEFUSE method worked like a charm in Fort Collins.”

Rolling southeast on historic “Route 66,” they passed lots of interesting potential pullovers. But duty calls. The Forks and DEFUSE-Master Buck Wellstone, needed to be on campus in the morning. With the sun at their backs and receding fast, the gang was fading. Parks Arizona, the Bellmont, then the interchange at the Navel Observatory… they had arrived. 

“Don’t miss the Route 66 interchange, Dummy,” said Roseanne’s gravley voice.

Buck acknowledged Siri’s Drunk Sister instructions, pulled into the RV park, and all made their way to bunks in their own time for a good night’s sleep before getting back to business on the NAU campus.   

NEXT WEEK:
Cruel Shoes and the glory of Mother Nature’s geological wonders.

GO BACK => Preface and Chapter Links

The Chool Bus (ch27)

CHAPTER 27: Focus-group interviews at UNLV complete, the Forks take a detour to Lake Tahoe for a guided boat cruise on Emerald Bay.

When Professor T started going on and on about Lake Tahoe, Buck silently remembered the wild story a girl he dated in Corpus Christie back in high school told him. Apparently her mother had friends who traveled to Tahoe for a gathering of Western-themed social media influencers, basically an industry party. Lots of dancing and modeling cowboy/girl clothing, hats, and horse tack products. There was a “bad weather” forecast, but storms very often come and go quickly on this high alpine lake as a matter of routine. Unfortunately for several boat owners and eight unlucky passengers, the storm did quite a bit more than cause a blustery inconvenience and Buck was determined to pump the brakes on any lake-cruise ideas if the forecast started looking sketchy. 

The gang wanted to charter a private party cruise on Emerald Bay and Buck’s no shrinking violet, so he made no protest, but keeping this tragic story close to his vest, he watched the weather forecast closely. He was prepared to make a case for sticking to the shore if necessary…he did not trust Mother Nature…not here.

As the Chool Bus rolled over a rise entering the lake’s basin, surrounded by Sierra Nevada mountains, these flatlanders felt a strange sense of claustrophobic verticality. After all, the Forks were used to seeing the horizon disappear up to twenty miles in any direction. Their familiar landscape was horizontal. But here in the Tahoe basin the spacial axis flips almost completely vertical. Instead of an open sky stretching forever, the landscape folds sharply upward. It felt almost like they were cupped inside a giant basin, surrounded by timber-heavy peaks nine to ten thousand feet. It was somewhat disorienting for Billie. She knew the Bus was up to the alpine mechanical challenge and she had no trouble piloting in these conditions, but she had never seen such a natural spectacle as this. From one of the scenic overlooks they could actually see granite boulders up to fifty feet below the surface as if resting at the bottom of a freshly scrubbed swimming pool. In this expanse, the shade of blue isn’t the soft hazy sky-color to which they were accustomed, but more like a deep, cobalt electric blue that seemed artificially saturated.

And their depth perception was affected, too. On the plains, when one sees a town or a ridge, they know roughly how long it takes to drive there. In the Tahoe basin, across the liquid expanse, the opposit shoreline looks like one could reach out and touch it, yet it’s twelve miles of deep, ice-cold water away. 

When the gang finally made it to the marina they agreed Tahoe felt like stepping inside a giant, hidden room made of stone, glass, and pine. Sort of a shock to the system… like moving from a world of infinite horizontal space to one dominated by massive depth and towering height.

As Professor T worked out final boarding arrangements his comrades relaxed at the bar with buck stealthily monitoring the weather in real-time. He had resolved to stay fairly sober in order not to miss any subtle cues from Mother Nature which would send him into guardian mode.

“So what about those deep-water mafia graveyard legends?” said Billie. “Like that scene in the Godfather where Fredo met his untimely end… i heard the bottom of Lake Tahoe would be littered with perfectly preserved former wiseguys sleeping with the fishes. You know… because the water is so c-c-c-cold?” Billy was half-joking. She knew deep-water exploring technologies had to have advanced to the point of exploring the bottom long ago. If there was any truth to the legends, they’d have heard about it by now.

Jack knew the stories were just that, provocative and entertaining, but essentially a nothingburger. “In fact, mobsters looking to make a killing in the casino business back in the day found Tahoe basically too much trouble. With the small size, inclement, sometimes unpredictably furious weather, a ‘Sin City’ on the lake never really materialized. The casinos that did emerge on the South Shore were basically bootstrapped by a couple ‘straight-arrow’ guys, anyway. So… great movie fodder, but not much in the way of news.”  

“Buzzkiller,” said Billie with a crooked smirk.

Fees paid and boarding time approaching, Buck took one last look at the forecast, all clear! When the gates opened, they made a beeline for the top deck, grabbed a drink and, taking in the massive 360- degree expanse of the crystal-clear water, basked in the sunshine and glory of Mother Nature’s spectacular wonder. 

Several miles of deep-blue open water later with Mount Tallac looming large overhead, the boat finally passed through the narrow mouth of Emerald Bay, the deep cobalt blue of the main lake’s water abruptly shifting into a brilliant, translucent turquoise. Once inside the bay, the captain throttled down slowing the boat to a smooth, quiet glide where they would soon circle Fannette Island giving everyone a photogenic view of the stone “tea house” perched on its peak, then past Vikingsholm, a thirty-eight room Scandinavian castle nestled in the pine forest on the shore.

After dropping anchor and releasing the more adventurous guests to some swimming or floating time in the not quite as icy water of the bay, the boat was again underway for a beautiful “golden hour” return to the marina. Professor T was at the bow taking it all in, with the sun dropping behind the Sierra peaks and the sky turning vibrant shades of pink, orange, and violet all reflecting across the still water, he almost dreaded going back into the breach of our divided nation looking for the causes of it’s wild fibrillation. Jack was in the main galley talking to a handsome lady on the boat for a family shindig. Not a single word about cyber-security and Jack was more than fine with it. Buck and Billie were back on the top deck soaking the experience and trying to hide that fluttering feeling in your stomach when you know something seismic is brewing, but you’re kinda scared of it and you do your best to hide it from your familiars. 

Once back in the bus and heading for the RV park, Buck let out a sigh of relief and never mentioned his Texas cowgirl friend’s tragic story.

NEXT WEEK:
All agreed, the backtracking detour to Lake Tahoe was worth the trouble, but it was time to get back to business. Eleven punishing hours to Flagstaff Arizona for the next round of  focus-group interviews… then, a trip to the deepest crack in the USA, the Grand Canyon.

GO BACK => Preface and Chapter Links

The Chool Bus (ch23)

CHAPTER 23: The Forks take a few days detour South to San Diego, then across the border to Ensenada before the next round of focus group interviews in Las Vegas.

“La Holla?” Buck Wellstone mispronounced the words.

“No… say it like this,” said Jack. “La HOY-uh… it’s based on a Spanish phrase la joya, which means ‘the jewel’. This might, of course, be fake news as another Spanish term, la hoya, refers to a geographic hollow. Or… ‘the holes,’” Jack burst into a juvenile fit of laughter, then composing himself after wiping away tears and blowing his nose. “Sorry, i get a kick out of the way people tend to jazz up the mundane. I mean, the neighborhood around UC San Diego is straight-up gorgeous…pristine beaches, perfect weather, marine life out the wazoo…but it’s really nothing more than a neighborhood of San Diego. Some refer to La Jolla as a State of Mind. And no one really knows why anyone would literally call it ‘the holes,’ perhaps they’re referring to the sea-level caves that can be seen from La Jolla Shores.”

With that, Jack closed his US road atlas, Billie punched the address into Siri’s Drunk Sister maps app, Professor T was engrossed in a book, earbuds on blast, and with that the Chool Bus was underway. Roughly four hours…straight south. They would arrive in time for supper in La Jolla, get a good night’s sleep then up and at ‘em early for the first round of focus group interviews at the university.

***

Buck Wellstone had grown accustomed to accompanying Billie from the passenger seat, keeping her company and exchanging music playlists. Now, Billie has never been a country music fan, but Buck was serving up the classics. And where Billie was familiar with pop-country playing on radio stations, Buck was showing her, for the first time, deep Appalachian “old-timey” Mountain fare, and the open-range cowboy singing poets exemplified by the likes of the Carter Family, Patsy Cline, Hank Williams, etc. 

“Why, this sounds like the tunes they used for that Coen Brothers movie…the one critics said was loosely based on Homer’s Odyssey,” said Billie. The actual music was not all that exciting for her, but she didn’t let Buck in on that as she was starting to warm up to Buck himself. In fact, she was getting a bit worried she might be in danger of falling for the big fella. While first impressions lead folks to regard Mr Wellstone imposing and dangerous, he was actually quite gentle, compassionate, and somewhat vulnerable. Billie, in a word was starting to fall for him.

Now Billie is very good at mental multi-tasking, and as she steered the Chool Bus southward through Pasadena then Irvine she was able to pay attention to Buck’s occasional commentary and his old-timey playlist while her non-binary nature was waging a vigorous debate over the relative merits of sparking up a conventional relationship with… a guy.

First, was she thinking about committing to a person or a type? She knew that dating Buck meant committing to a specific person, regardless of gender. Like, he was never going to understand her on the levels of her female lovers. Does she run the risk of growing tired of that, or can the relationship grow stronger over time like her favorite aunt and uncle…despite the annoying gender-specific quirks to which many hetero couples must grin and bear?

Does going hetero erase a part of me? Her thoughts were working overtime. After all, the common fear is that settling with someone of the opposite sex would make others perceive her as “straight.” She worried whether entering a monogamous relationship would alter how she, or the world, view her identity. So many questions: Did she explore enough? Does she need a more polyamorous arrangement? Would Buck be able to trust her? So many questions. It was getting harder to continue the illusion of full attentiveness and Buck was starting to notice from the broken dialog and self-interruptions. Billie was making more apologies for unfocused responses. She knew she was spreading her awareness too thin for safe driving…she would have to focus on the wheel in the urban traffic zones. When a feeling of tightness in her chest pushed her into a defiant mood, she said something rude to Buck and both went silent for a long moment.

Meanwhile Jack and Professor T were having a spirited debate about the nature of good and evil. Every once in a while one of their voices would cut through the bus’ engine and tire noise. It must have been a banger of a debate. By the time the four hour stretch was through they arrived on a logical equation, an accord, a compromise. This was it: The pursuit of self-interest PLUS aggression or violence MINUS basic human compassion EQUILS generic evil.

As Billie steered the bus into the RV park on the outskirts of Sandog SoCal, Billie apologized for the rude outburst and Buck assured her he was not even remotely offended, he wasn’t explicitly lying as her sudden inexplicable rudeness did hurt a bit.

He too was sliding down that slippery slope…he felt as if it were possible he could fall fairly hard for this contradictory bundle of gentle, fair, beautiful, tough-as-leather, one hundred percent bad-ass bitch.

He never thought he would meet, let alone get hung up on someone identifying themselves among the rainbow LGBTQ coalition…but here we are.

Rolling into the UC Sandog Student Union parking lot, the Forks prepared to roll out the schtick. It was time for everyone to put on their most professional and focused masks. Time to gather some qualitative data from this affluent Southern California corner of our spiritually ailing nation. There would be a week break between San Diego and the next research destination, Las Vegas. In the meantime, the Forks would dip their toes in to the sands of Mexico… they gonna fuck around and find out.

NEXT WEEK:
The detour to Ensenada is ill timed as the Mexican Government cracks down on a notorious cartel kingpin and all hell breaks loose.

GO BACK => Preface and Chapter Links

The Chool Bus (ch21)

CHAPTER 21: The Forks interview folks in Redding, Sacramento, and San Francisco before taking some time in Monterey, enjoying the Steinbeck vibes on Cannery Row.

The gang enjoyed some pizza and a couple beers with Professor T’s relatives in Redding before getting a good night’s sleep ahead of the next grueling leg of the tour. Sacramento, and San Francisco would challenge Billie with their traffic. She learned a thing or two about urban congestion in Portland and the lessons stuck…they were no longer having to apologize for late arrivals. Of course smoothing things over would be much easier if Professor T could take his diplomatic approach up a notch or two, but it’s all in the rearview as Billie was getting real good at choosing alternate routes offered by Siri’s drunk sister now programmed with Rosanne Barr’s salty voice.

“Are you blind AND deaf?”
Roseanne barked at Billie whenever she missed a turn. 

***

It took a full day to finish at State University in Sacramento, then it was off to one of the most storied, cosmopolitan cities in the US. The interviews were to take place at the University of California, Berkley, and this was an eye-opener for the flatlanders riding in the Chool Bus…oh yeah. See, weather in the Bay area is famously mild, a fact that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the nation’s many…many unfortunates living out of cars, vans, and motor homes. 

Buck Wellstone could hardly get his jaw off the floor as the Chool Bus past block after block of hovels lining the sidewalks. Vacant lots filled with RVs and tents…small cohorts of unhoused individuals tightly clustered in pungent slapdash micro-communities. It’s a bit much for a Big Sky Texas cowboy to take in.

The mix of folks appearing for the interviews was as diverse as the city itself, and once the final round was complete, the gang was more than happy to be moving on. Not out of any fear or loathing for an overwhelming presence of the nation’s down and out, rather the unsettling juxtaposition of some of the best and brightest cohabitating a mere’s security door from the nation’s doomed, not simply there because Mother Nature’s wrath is less prominent, no…it’s San Francisco…one of the world’s most celebrated cities.

At the end of the day in Berkley, Billie met some of what she considered the most interesting people she had yet to encounter in all her years on the high plains. One was preparing an IPO for his artificial intelligence development company, another impressed Billie with wisdom beyond years, and nearly penniless. She and her rescue dog had been living in one of those tent cities for the past several months. Not sure what to do next, but inclined to hop a cargo freighter to Viet Nam. Clear-eyed about the downsides of life in a communist country, but at the same time, done with the zero-sum, social Darwinist hunger games of capitalism. 

“Why Viet Nam?” said Billie. 

“Not one hundred percent sure,” said her new companion. “I’ve always felt we Americans should try to do something…anything to help folks in South East Asia recover from the devastation the American war did to their land. So, i signed up with an international NGO to help the locals plant a billion trees.  

“Trees?” said Billie.

“Yes. Even though there’s no way for us to mitigate the human losses, we certainly can help to repair damage to nature’s oxygen-generating forests and urban greenspace. So… we’ll see. Right now looking to get myself and my dog, Buddy, vaccinated for the stay, however long it may end up being.”

Billie smiled. “That sounds like a worthy adventure.”

Billie’s new companion continued: “Proud to be an American, land of liberty within the confines of total freedom and absolute justice.” She went on. “And so, if total freedom ends in anarchy and absolute justice to tyranny, i choose a little of both…liberty. I plan to give way to contrition with mine, and not just for the people of Southeast Asia, but to the land we shredded with our bombs and weaponized herbicides.”

***

Later, on the road to Salinas, Professor T was reacquainting himself with John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row characters and settings as the gang agreed to spend the next day in Monterey soaking in the atmosphere, trying to overlook the touristy vibe and really get immersed in the world created by this great American storyteller.   

For one, Professor T, contemplating the tent enclaves in Berkley’s vacant lots, couldn’t ignore a sense of Deja vu. How there must be similar stories in there. On Cannery Row the nation’s doomed found ways to thrive through interconnection and mutual support. Necessity giving folks on the waterfront row and in the Bay Area canvas-roof enclaves license to give in to the better angels of human nature. Prostitutes, drifters, iconoclasts, and rebels forming surrogate families protecting inhabitants from the devastating isolation of the modern world.

***

Presently, Professor T turned his thoughts to the brewing storm waiting for him back home in Kansas. His anger was beginning to temper a bit. He thought about the lessons taken from the pages of Cannery Row. Could he beat back the legal attack with angry defiance? Should he put his back into a fight against the natural flow of the universe, or could he defuse Abagail’s attack with acceptance? Regardless of the outcome, could he just simply let things be? He would find out soon enough as he was summoned to appear in court back home because Abigail’s attorneys had filed a suit to collect damages. 

The Zoom conference outburst had not helped his case at the University. He was written up for “chronic low performance,”  a bureaucratic prelude to being subject to an unfavorable post-tenure review, one step closer to being dismissed. Scheizer & Bok will use this bit of unfortunate news in their case for damages. 

“You have ARRIVED, dummy!” Roseanne Barr’s voice barked as Billie steered the Chool Bus into the Salinas RV park where the gang would spend the night.

NEXT WEEK:
The Forks head south (SoCal) venturing close to LA via Santa Barbara and Moorpark, then, a taste of the Bakersfield sound at the Merle Haggard Museum.

GO BACK => Preface and Chapter Links

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