The Club

Chapter 18 - Fairy Penguins

I’m not sure what I hate more, busses or bus drivers. There is no more claustrophobic feeling for me than sitting on a coach, faced with a 10-hour tour at the mercy of a bus driver who holds all the power to control your day in the palm of his steering wheel.

The ten girls, four coaches, and our fearless leader were trapped together as a large, odorous, and unduly jolly bus driver closed the foldable door of his tour bus and held us captive for the evening. Our destination was Phillip Island, for sunset, where we were to watch tiny fairy penguins waddle to the shore after an afternoon of fishing. I could think of better things to do. Three times I had contemplated emergencies which would have made my presence on this trip expendable, but I kept coming back to the fact that I had put in a full week and I needed to see this trip to its logical conclusion.

We were all spread out on the bus when the driver proceeded to make 2 more stops at hotels in Melbourne to pick up more families and newlyweds for the trip to Phillip Island. The girls were in full unwind mode, giggling like hyenas and giddy for an afternoon without golf. Ralph, the driver, finally had a bus with 75% of the seats full and off we went, braving the Melbourne traffic on our way out to the island. I knew very well the life of the tour bus operator as I had seen this act many a time back home on the Noosa River. As it was on my father’s boat, a script would soon be dusted off and Ralph’s mouth would disconnect from his brain as he entertained the cabin – but more importantly himself – for the next 8 hours. The man talked non-stop. Every left turn brought him to a story and every right turn meant another comedic tale, and just when you thought a straightaway might provide a respite – that is when he launched into long soliloquies about development in Melbourne, local politics, and the history of the city. A huge mistake was made early in the journey when, through an act of charity, a few members of the cabin decided to provide a laugh at one of Ralph’s decades-old jokes. This opened the floodgates and Ralph’s one-man comedy show went into high gear. I would have given the man $100 to stop talking or even to merely slow down so I could jump out the window and impale myself on a road sign. It was that bad.

I kept doing the math and the time for this journey just didn’t add up. Why were we leaving at 2pm for a 7pm sunset when the island was literally an hour and half from Melbourne? The answer became obvious. You see the first rule of operating a tour is that you need to create a few stops along the way for the passengers. My father would stop at a rickety old pier where a 70-year-old man would appear with a camera and take pictures of couples along the Noosa River only charging $2 for the picture. For this commercial opportunity my father received a free coffee every trip. This pattern would soon be repeated on the bus trip as Big Ralph alerted us that our first stop would be at a petting zoo along the way so we might chase after kangaroos and peacocks while at the same time buy a few provisions at the snack bar. I prayed for Jack Daniels. My prayers were unanswered. We disembarked at the petting zoo and the girls scattered. We had an unearthly 45 minutes to kill at this stop.

I struggle with relaxation. As I looked around at the passengers stepping off the bus, I noticed that I was the only one that appeared stressed. All of the people had chosen to suspend their belief and simply enjoy the journey. No analysis was needed; they were willing to give up control of their schedules for the afternoon and evening and cede it to this gentle bus driver. I knew that if I was to get through the evening I’d have to do the same. Everyone on the bus trip was partnered off. Groups of girls were off to pet kangaroos and search for peacocks, trying to find 50-cent pieces that would buy them food for the animals. The older folk in our midst were desperately searching for a workable toilet, and the rest were eschewing the fields in order to find some overpriced coffee and a stale dessert. Savannah was sitting alone on the bus after all of the other passengers had disembarked. She was pouring through her notes from the week. Ms Mills had some difficult decisions ahead; she could only take 6 players to Chicago, and from what I saw there were 3 or 4 obvious choices and 1 or 2 definite no’s which would put 4 players in competition for 2 spots.