I discover my first mistake almost immediately. When I arrive at the hostel the night before my bus tour is due to depart, it's heaving with late teens and early twenty-somethings who don't appear to give a fuck about anything. For someone who has consistently lived her life with that attitude, the discovery that I don't, in fact, enjoy that sentiment anymore, feels like progress.
Despite my reservations about my tour mates, I've got a solid twelve hours before the bus leaves, and I wander into the common room to see whether I can find common ground with anyone. Can't be that hard. Wasn't too long ago I was a member of this group. Carefree. Wild. No responsibilities. That's what I'm trying to do on this trip. Get the last of that out of my system. These people are my people.
Everyone is talking and drinking, and I quickly do a search for the legal drinking age in Canada since most of these people don't look like they're twenty-one. Eighteen or nineteen, depending on the province. It's been a long time since I've had to care about whether anyone is old enough to do something.
"Want a hit?" A blond guy who is clearly already stoned turns a joint toward me. He looks like he's sixteen but is probably not quite that young.
"Can you smoke that in here?" I sound so much like Paige it makes me cringe inside, but it's out before I can reconsider.
"The window's open," he says, gesturing to the open window beside him. "Besides, who's going to rat on me?" He scans me. "Maybe you, actually. You look like my mom. Do you work here?"
I snatch the joint out of his hand, and I take a deep drag. When I blow smoke rings out, his skepticism changes to respect.
There's a commotion behind me, and five or six guys have another one of their friends in a handstand while he shotguns a beer. It feels like all forty-eight seats on the bus are crammed into this common room. In theory, it's possible. We leave bright and early in the morning. I hadn't intended to start my trip with a hangover, but maybe I should. If the goal is to get out the wildness, maybe I should just go for it.
"Are all these people on the bus tour?" I ask.
"Far as I can tell." He chuckles and takes another drag. "Unless the tour gets cancelled."
"Seems like the tour would be full. Why would the tour get—"
An airhorn goes off, and I realize it's actually the smoke alarm. Everyone starts laughing, and no one makes a move to leave. Smoke is swirling around the room, and I realize my friend near the window is the least of my worries.
Rushing to my room, I grab my backpack. Not what you're supposed to do in a fire, but when your whole life is literally in a bag, you have to make some tough choices. When I hustle back to the common room, the smoke is thick, and very few of them seem to have realized they should be leaving.
"Everyone out!" I yell. "That's the fire alarm."
"Oh, my God," a girl whines. "Who invited my mom? Chill, lady."
"Chill!" I throw my hand at the billowing smoke coming from, I think, the kitchen area. "There's a fucking fire."
"Oh shit," someone near the back says. "This isn't a drill?"
I turn on my heel and head for the stairwell, taking them as fast as I can to get to the first floor. Firetruck sirens sound in the distance, and I hear the door to the stairwell above open and the pounding of more feet. At least some of them seem to have taken the situation seriously.
When I get out the door and onto the street, I turn left and walk down the street to where the bus tour company is located. They should still be open, and there's no way I want to spend two weeks with the group of people in that hostel. The cost might have been well within budget for this portion of the trip, but the service and quality are already lacking.
At the tour company, I'm the only one inside. From some back room the young woman who helped me earlier emerges.
"You're back! Is this because the hostel is on fire? It's probably just the stove."
Her blasé attitude is making me question my sanity. "What other tours are leaving tomorrow?"
"Let me check." She clicks through a bunch of things on her computer and then she frowns. "We do have one other, but it's for mature customers. The seats are discounted with it being so close to departure. The accommodations are more motels than hostels, so that's a step up."
"I'm mature," I say, straightening. Mature seems much better than what I was likely signing up for back there. Though I'm not too sure where I'm sleeping tonight.
"Yeah, I mean, if you don't mind that kind of vibe, I can switch you over and refund the difference. No smoking. No drinking. No random hookups."
No fun.
"You okay with those rules?" She eyes me over the counter.
"I will embrace that vibe with both hands." Except, apparently, I'm not supposed to embrace anything.
"All right," she says, and she frowns at the computer as she navigates to wherever she needs to go. "I'll send an email confirmation. Parking lot meet up is one street over from the other one." She grabs a map off the counter and circles things and stars other things. "Us right now. Motel. Bus pickup." She draws her pen across the route.
"Perfect," I say, folding the map so only the route is visible. "I appreciate your help."
As far as first mistakes went, that was relatively painless. Hopefully all my mistakes are that easy to fix, but I somehow doubt that'll be the case.
~ * ~
The next morning when I step outside my second story motel room, the parking lot with the bus is visible, and it dawns on me that 'mature' was a polite euphemism for people currently receiving their social security checks. There isn't a single person whose hair hasn't grayed or been completely lost. Thankfully, most of them seem to be mobile. There's a smattering of walkers and canes, but nothing outrageous.
Still, the other tour was supposed to encompass hikes and adventure activities. I can hardly see the same thing happening here.
"Shit," I mutter just as the door beside mine opens, and my jaw almost hits the concrete balcony for a whole different reason.
He's tall with an athletic build and dark hair that's on the long side. When he glances at me, he's got the prettiest eyes. Some shade of blue or green that I can't quite identify from this distance, but they're striking. There's a substantial scar over the right one that only intrigues me more. After a cursory once over, he's heading down the stairs with his backpack over one shoulder.
That felt very dismissive. He could have at least said hello. If he's the tour guide, I'm already considering giving him a poor rating. Friendliness is not his forte.
A woman emerges out of the group down below with a clipboard, and she holds up her hand to get everyone's attention. I double check the door behind me, and I hustle down the stairs to hear what she has to say.
As I'm coming up behind everyone, the woman starts talking.
"I'm Sarah. I'll be your tour guide for the next fourteen days."
I glance toward the tall man who came out of the room next to mine. Guess I was wrong about him. It's not hard to spot him in the crowd since he's the only one with dark hair and hasn't shrunk from old age. Seems strange he'd be on this tour. Maybe he didn't understand what 'mature' meant either.
"When I call out your name, you can get on the bus and select your seat. We've got a full bus, so choose wisely." She grins.
The process of getting on the bus is lengthy, and it feels like Sarah has done this in the wrong order. If we'd all piled on and then she'd taken attendance, it would have been a simpler process. But what do I know? I've never organized a group of geriatrics before.
The numbers are dwindling, and mystery man hasn't come any closer to me or the front, preferring to hang back. The last older person hobbles onto the bus, and Sarah glances up from her list.
"Blake, you're up first, and Gwen, you're pulling up the rear."
Blake. I savor the taste of his name on my tongue while I stuff my bag in the bottom of the bus. It suits him, and I like it. He appears older than me by a few years, and his skin is unusually tanned for this time of year. Maybe he travels a lot. Does these sorts of backpacking trips regularly. Maybe he's living the life I've been sure is unsustainable.
Either way, I didn't see a ring on his finger. A two-week fling wouldn't be so bad. Finite. When the bus trip is done, so are we. Doesn't get much better than that.
At the top of the bus stairs, I pause and take in the sea of faces. There are no obvious empty seats, so I make my way down the aisle until I get to the final two seats. Blake is wedged into the aisle seat across from the toilet, and the window seat next to him is free.
"Can I?" I nod toward the empty space.
He doesn't say anything, simply rises from his spot and makes room for me to scoot in. I'm not sure what he thought was going to happen when Sarah already said the bus was full. If he knew it was the last seat, he could have stood up without me asking.
The microphone at the front of the bus squeaks, and Sarah winces. "Sorry about that, folks. We've got a two-hour ride to Whistler, where we'll spend the day exploring the tourist hub."
Two hours sounds perfect. Lots of time for me to win Blake over.
Does Blake seem like he's in the mood to be won over? 😳😉
Update: Friday
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