The bus was seen docking at the station late on a cold, dark night. The passengers trudged out to get on board, with various expressions on their faces. Kevin Millar climbed up the steps, a large bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. As he plopped into his seat, Millar took a pull on the bottle. “It’s gonna be a long, hard ride,” he said, his eyes a little red with emotion. “I loved this place, man, but now it’s over. But I got this here bottle with me, dude, and I’m gonna be an idiot one last night.” He was seen saving two seats, and was asked why. “Johnny and Manny, baby,” he said. “I know them leaving ain’t a done deal, but if they are, I want to leave town side-by-side with my fellow idiots.”
Mike Myers hopped on board, resigned to sitting on the left side of the bus. “I get sick if I sit on the right side,” he said, sadly shrugging his shoulders. Aware that Yankee Stadium awaits him, he turned away and looked longingly out the window toward the Boston skyline, thinking of all the various vaccinations he'll need to get before crossing the border to New York.
“Who’s that dude?” Millar asked, as another passenger boarded. “Oh, Renteria, I hardly knew that guy.”
“I kept getting on the wrong bus,” a confused Renteria said. “I must have made 30 mistakes. Maybe my eyesight is the problem.”
“Bus says ‘Leaving Boston,’ dude, clear as day—and that’s what you’re doing,” Millar said. “You always looked lost here.” He looked up. “Hey, 'Belli! And Billy Mueller!”
Doug Mirabelli and Bill Mueller waved to Millar as they took seats up front. “I’m not sitting with the idiots,” Mueller said, smiling pleasantly at Millar.
“No way,” said Mirabelli. “It’s a long ride outta here, and old Cowboy Up will be Throwing Up that Jack Daniels in a few hours.”
“Who’s that way in the back, Wells?" Mueller asked. "He hasn’t even been traded yet.”
Everyone turned around, and Millar smiled, offering him the bottle.
“Just stay away from me, all ‘a yas. I am outta here. I hate this place. Pretty soon the fans’ll come crawling through the windows and up through the tailpipe looking for autographs.” Wells looked up toward the driver. “We ready to leave yet?”
Indistinguishable shadows approached the bus, and everyone strained to see who was approaching.
“Not yet,” the driver said, scanning his passenger list. “Looks like there are gonna be a few more passengers on board before this bus leaves town.”
“Times are changin, dude,” Millar said, draining more of the bottle. “Times are changing.”
bill@callofthegreenmonster.com
