Hijinks on a Wayward Bus

The hot and sticky air floated through the dingy windows of the rickety bus as it trundled down the main road towards Montevideo, Uruguay. Onboard were about 40 performers – swimmers, dancers and divers, all part of a second-rate water ballet show that had just flopped after an unsuccessful run at Rio de Janeiro’s Municipal Theatre.

We’d been travelling for close to 10 hours, and while the old bus merrily rolled along, we passed the time drinking cheap sugar cane liquor, playing charades, singing silly songs, and generally acting goofy. Young and optimistic, with fingers crossed, we had hoped that all would go smoothly from now on, and this new booking would be a smashing success!

Did I say smoothly?

Suddenly, the bus lurched, veered off the road, and came to an abrupt stop! For a moment no one moved. Then the crusty old driver awkwardly stood up. He turned to face us, his shoulders taut and hunched. His fists, clenched so tightly that the knuckles had turned white, were roughly jammed into his pockets. His face was contorted, swollen and flushed. Then, in a high-pitched voice he let loose a stream of frenzied gibberish. Finally, like an egocentric peacock making a grand exit, he spun around and strutted down the steps disappearing into the night – never to be seen by us again!

Stranded and shocked, we slowly climbed off the bus. The night was as black as the devil’s soul. We had no idea where we were or what on earth we should do next! The air was hotter and thicker, and the “no-see-um’s” were absolutely thrilled to have us drop by for dinner. One by one our tempers began to flare like pressure cookers ready to pop!

The traffic was sparse, but every so often a handful of big rigs rumbled by, headlights slashing through the darkness. That’s when our heroic diving team took charge, turning a roadside rescue into a full-blown performance. They waved, whistled, and cartwheeled until they eventually flagged down six truckers who (bless their hearts), graciously offered to take us all to Montevideo, which to our great relief was only ONE HOUR away!

The Noel Sherman Water Ballet Troupe was safely chauffeured to our Montevideo hotel by a fleet of chivalrous truckers, who treated us with the kind of care that is usually reserved for fine china and movie stars. When we reached our hotel, we were greeted with warm words and cheerful smiles. A welcome drink appeared in every hand, followed by the bliss of air-conditioned rooms, fluffy beds, and kind wishes for a good night’s sleep.

In the morning, still young and optimistic, with fingers crossed, we once again hoped that everything would go smoothly from now on, and that this new booking would be a smashing success!