Page 8 of Only One Tour Bus

“Can you take a picture of us?”

“Where should we eat?”

“What should we do now?”

“Where should we drink now?”

They descend upon us, like a plague of those Biblical locusts, and my first instinct is to warn them away with a snarl. But I contain it because this is normal post-walking tour stuff. As irritating as I find it.

But Asha, the cheerful sociopath, welcomes them toward her. “Yes. I will take pictures here and at the statue of Greyfriars Bobby, the puppy who kept visiting his dad’s grave. And I can tell you my favorite places⁠—”

I interrupt. “I have lists for you. These are just my recommendations and I can’t guarantee you’ll enjoy everything here, but I like them, as do other locals. There are lists for museums and historic sights, for shopping, for food and one for pubs-slash-bars, with opening and closing information as well as a general description, along with maps. Please feel free to take pictures of them to refer to during your time in Edinburgh, and I have some paper copies as well.”

Asha looks at me, impressed for once. I think she would be less impressed if I told her I made the lists so I could cut down the amount of interaction with the tourists, giving them all the same restaurant name and waiting while they individually try to find it on their phones. But they are a big hit, so I do accept some of her silent praise.

“We’ll meet you back here in four hours, where we’ll take the bus to the hotel for check-in and then go on our first group dinner,” Asha says.

“The hotel information is on the lists. If you’re late meeting back here, you will need it because we will leave without you,” Callum says.

“I can give out my number and if anyone runs into any issues, please call me. Have fun and be safe!”

The group looks to me, but I will not be giving these people my number. They give up and Asha starts taking photos.

And everyone mostly leaves me alone. I do take a few photos, but I think the tourists all prefer Asha over me. Good. If they’re into that sort of aggressive cheerfulness, that’s their business. As long as everyone stays away from me, I can’t complain.

It still takes too long for the group to go away. I know what they’re waiting for, what they’re lingering around for. They’re hoping that we’ll offer to take them somewhere. No luck on this front. I have asked exactly how much time I have to spend with the group, and I’ll not be spending one second more than is required. Unless they give me a giant raise and a personality transplant.

Since the company cuts every possible financial corner, I don’t think either of those things are happening any time soon.

I’m half surprised that Asha doesn’t cave and take the tourists with her, like little ducklings with their mam. “You’re not gonna take the sad puppies?” I whisper under my breath, nodding my head at James, Rebecca, and one of the families as they linger around and look back and forth to us, clearly waiting for her to adopt them.

She shakes her head. “No. As much as I really want to help them. But it’s good for them to see Edinburgh on their own and build up their travel confidence, which I know will bleed into other parts of their lives. I felt so accomplished the first time I navigated the Tube by myself. And that one time I took that bus into the wilds of the North York Moors. I almost got abandoned outside a tea shop next to Byland Abbey because I had no idea when, or if, the bus was coming, and the tea shop was closing. I started making plans on how I was going to live off the land, that amounted to ‘I should maybe eat the grass.’ But then the bus came and I basically felt like what surgeons must feel like after a successful surgery.”

“Jaysus, Asha, I don’t recall asking for your life story.” I think I know less information about my actual cousin than I do the woman in front of me with no filter.

The woman who is not deterred in the slightest by my admonition.

“Figuring this out themselves is character building. Plus, Edinburgh is kind of the perfect place to start because it’s smaller and easier to navigate than most cities. But it is hard to watch the tour babies leave the nest.” She tilts her head and puts her hand to her chest.

“No. It’s not.”

The last of the group are finally out of sight, disappeared around corners or swallowed up by the crowd of other tourists and impatient locals. I can finally breathe a little easier now that I have a free afternoon. And this is the second-best part of the job, aside from teaching others about history. Because now I get to explore, and learn new things, myself.

“This is the perfect city to start a tour with. I have to commend Rob on that,” Asha says.

I snort. “He only did it because it was cheaper to have offices here than in London.”

“Then it works out for everyone. How can that be a bad thing?”

“Well, it’s not.” She has me there, much as I hate to admit it. “But it’s naive to assume he was thinking about the benefit to the clients over his bottom line.”

“It’s cynical to think it can’t be a little of both.”

“Realistic.”

“That’s what all the cynics say.” She shakes her head in sadness over my lack of cheer.

“The realists,” I whisper to myself as Asha turns. Because I like my outlook on life, damn it.