Page 83 of Only One Tour Bus

“What?” I know she said something whilst she was stretching, but I didn’t catch one single, solitary word of it.

“I said, the kids were out late, so they’ll be tired today. That means a smooth bus ride with everyone napping.” She smiles at me with sparkling eyes. Like the way the sun hits the Mediterranean Ocean off the coast of Greece. That means I’ve amused her. I don’t quite know what I said, but I won’t argue with the results; she’s beautiful when she’s laughing at me.

“Let’s see if Charlotte is going to sue us for not handling her laundry.”

“You should stay away from her and let me handle it,” Asha says as she gets out of bed. I’m graced with gorgeous views of her curves before she disappears to the bathroom.

“Probably for the best.”

We pack our bags in less time than it takes most long-term couples to decide on a place to eat dinner at. This being our job, we’ve got the mechanics of packing up a room down to an art, and we’re still downstairs before anyone else, even though we took a wee detour kissing on the bed.

Although she deserves most of the credit for pulling away from the kiss so we could be on time. If it were up to me, we would have let the group deal with the rest of the trip themselves, while we enjoyed our one room, one bed, and a great view of the Alps.

Everyone else also makes it on time, if tired, and we get on the bus. Charlotte even looks too hungover to say anything to Asha about the laundry. The drive is blissfully quiet and the stops, including at the border, are efficient. Asha takes the tour speech in Milan, giving enough history that makes even this historian happy, which I think is her intent, because she winks at me when she’s done.

“All right, Best Group Ever, you can see the first skyscraper in Italy, the first shopping mall in Italy, Da Vince’s Last Supper, or see the Duomo with its 3,400 statues—and 135 gargoyles. Or all of that if you’re efficient, in shape, and hydrated.”

“I have information sheets for anyone who wants them,” I say, holding up my stack of papers.

We disembark from the bus, and Asha pulls Charlotte aside, probably telling her about the Milan plan. Charlotte looks happy, taking Asha up on it and forgetting about the laundry, and she and Maria take their bags off the bus.

“They’re dropping like flies,” Asha says to me, watching the women leave.

“They’ll be back. Unfortunately.” I mumble the last part because I know Asha will think it’s hilarious, and she doesn’t disappoint.

“You’re right. The baby birds have to fly the coop sometime. If you love something, let it go, and if it comes back⁠—”

Kevin interrupts Asha before she can throw out any other aphorisms. “Where’s the best bar, fearless leader?”

He’s consistent. And look, I’m not opposed to a drinking tour through Europe, but why pay the money to go on a tour that’s focused on history and then ignore it? The bars here can’t be that different from the bars at home. Red Bull and cheap vodka is Red Bull and cheap vodka wherever you order it. Maybe Asha really is on to something with her specialized tours.

I’m about to respond when Asha takes the question. “I get it. Europe is a lot of fun, and so are its many varied drinks. But how about you at least see the Duomo first? You don’t even have to go inside, but there are wild sculptures on the outside. Lions attacking people, lots of #AbGoals. All on a church! And then there’s a place that has wine and some very good pasta on one of the side streets. See a little bit of Milan, and I think you’ll enjoy it. Or you can go straight to the restaurant, which has views of the Duomo from its outside tables.”

“All right. I guess it was an expensive plane ticket.” He sounds about as excited as a small child being told to eat some broccoli, but he does trudge off in the direction of the Duomo after he gets the name of the restaurant.

“Why even come to Europe? They can drink in America. They can go to Canada or Mexico for a lot less if they just want to drink with people who have accents.”

“The wine and food here are amazing. Even if someone isn’t interested in history or art, I can see the appeal. I try to keep track of restaurant recommendations for Italy, but in reality, I don’t need to. I’ve never had a bad meal here. And I’ve had a lot of meals here.”

“Is that a contender for one of your custom tours?”

“Oh, yes. But I can’t lead it, because I do like walking around and seeing history. Despite how many times I’ve been to a city. Like how I really want to see the Duomo today even though I’ve already seen it, because it’s got so much going on that there’s always something new to notice.”

“You’ve been to a lot of places,” I say as we start walking to the square. If she wants to see the cathedral, then that’s where we’ll go. “Where is someone supposed to take you if they wanted to give you a nice trip?”

“Oof. That’s a tough question.”

At the busy square, tourists are craning their necks to take in every detail of the immense edifice that took 500 years to build. While we’re looking, she says, “I would be happy to go anywhere. Somewhere close, somewhere I’ve already been, someplace new. It’s more about who I’m with and what we plan to do once we get there. Because even someplace old can feel new seeing it with someone new, like you, me, and Milan right now. I can also see an old place alone, because I’ve probably changed since I saw it last, or it has. But also Machu Picchu. I want to see Incan ruins and llamas, and I haven’t been yet. And Egypt with the pyramids and temples and cow-headed columns. How about you? Where should someone take the man who’s been everywhere?”

“Since I haven’t been everywhere, somewhere I haven’t been would be nice. But I’m also most interested in Irish history, so I would travel around Ireland, visiting obscure villages, big houses, museums, and historic sites across the country,” I say.

“That sounds like a nice road trip. I still remember when me and a college roommate were studying abroad in London, and we wanted to do a road trip up to Scotland to Inverness, I got the most shocked looks from the rental car guy. It’s only nine hours total, and we made multiple stops along the way. He reacted like we told him we were going to drive straight on to Athens.”

“People don’t drive as much in Europe. Not when planes and trains and even buses are so easy,” I say.

“That’s fair. But a road trip can be pretty fun.”

“We do road trips. Occasionally.” And I hope she understands the tone I’m using for that sentence means I don’t find them as fun as the woman in front of me does.