Chapter 198

“I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are good people and bad people. You’re wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.”
—Terry Pratchett, Guards! Guards!

I HIT THE BRICKS at seven this morning. That wasn’t enough sleep, but I could go back to bed later. I really needed to get a good run in before the day started. Em parked us in a lot near the Krannert Performing Arts Center. I ran through the campus and around the paths used by students who were living normal lives, going to school, working on degrees. Students who had already completed their service.

When I got back from a good five miles, I was ready to hit the shower. We needed to learn to manage our water usage. Em said there was plenty of water in the fresh tank, but when I stepped into the shower, I discovered we were out of hot water. I was sixth one in and the water heater apparently isn’t that big. Em said it only had a twelve-gallon capacity. We’d need to learn to use less water or find alternate places to clean up. I wondered if there was a fitness center near that we could use. Emily had her tablet out and was making notes on facilities and needs.

“This is complicated,” she sighed as I slid into our little dining nook beside her with a cup of coffee. Joan was on cooking duty and was making our first meal in the motorhome while trying to find where pans and dishes were.

“You mean that logistics is more than just driving the cargo around?” I joked. She scowled at me.

“Putting the two of you on the road requires a staff of ten,” she said. “Donna, do you think it’s too early to call Jo? When is she supposed to get here?”

“She’s probably having breakfast at the Hilton,” Donna said. “She didn’t plan to leave Chicago until ten since there’s no performance or load-in today.”

“I should find a dump station and fresh water,” Em said. “I can probably wait until we move the bus to the loading ramp tomorrow and get provisioned while you’re rehearsing.”

“When we move tomorrow night, I plan to ride with Jo so we can be at the facility to get things set up before you all arrive Tuesday. You can stay here on campus for the night and not leave for St. Louis until first thing Tuesday morning.”

“Okay. I hate to leave you in her clutches for another twenty-four hours,” Em laughed.

“Aside from being a little abrasive, she’s not so bad. She’s just dealing with a new department, new personnel, and a new product all at once, while coordinating resources across 3,000 miles and fourteen venues. The sooner you and I can take over the nitty gritty, the happier she’ll be.”

“We won’t have as big a crew here as we had in Chicago,” Em said.

“That was a bit of overkill anyway,” I said. “We can move our own equipment.”

“There are rules at most venues regarding who can move and set up equipment,” Em sighed. “Just don’t expect a gourmet meal served in the dressing room tomorrow. Beca? We need to do some menu planning so we can put the right groceries in. Once Jo gets here, we’ll use her car to go get what supplies we need.”

“Joan and I started putting together a list last night. We’d be working on it now, but there’s only room for one person in the kitchen.”

“And here’s breakfast,” Joan said. “Scrambled eggs, turkey sausage, and toast. Paper plates. With as short on hot water as we are, I’m trying to wash as few dishes as possible.”

“How did you get stuck on kitchen duty?” I asked. “Is that your new NSO?”

“We all have to do what we have to do, Jacob. Beca and I don’t have specific duties during concerts. We’ll try to keep the place tidy as long as you all pick up your dirty underwear when you come running through the bus, stripping after a show,” she said.

“I happened to recognize one pair of those dirty underwear as having been stripped off your cute butt,” I laughed. “But point taken. We don’t have much room and it wouldn’t take much to make it unlivable. Pick up our shit.”

“I cook,” Cindy said quietly. She’d slid into the little booth practically on my lap with a plate of eggs and sausage. It was the first thing I’d heard her say this morning and I put an arm around her bare back to pet her. “I don’t mind. Well, I mean it’s hard to do on a night I’m performing, but I really wouldn’t mind cooking tonight. It helps me not get obsessed about the performance.”

“Then help me prepare the menu,” Beca said. “And I suppose we should plan on Jo joining us for dinner, which means clothes, people.”

“I think we can be pretty casual with her,” Donna said, “but there’s no sense rubbing her nose in our lifestyle. It’s just part of being polite to guests, like we are at home when the parents come over.”

There was a knock on the door of the motorhome. At nine o’clock on Sunday morning? I grabbed a robe and went to the door. Em scrambled to find her sweats. Everyone else got themselves covered before I opened the door. A campus cop stood at the bottom of the steps.

“Oh, hi! Are you our security?” I asked.

“I’m here to enforce campus rules,” he answered. “No overnight parking is allowed in campus lots. And camping is strictly forbidden. I’m going to have to write you a citation that will include a day’s campus community service for this violation.” Oh, shit! “Your license, please.”

“I’m the driver, officer,” Em said, pushing past me. “We are here with the National Service and have permission to park until Tuesday morning. We’re guests of the University.”

“No one has given us any directives, Miss...” he looked at her ID “ ... Hopkins. And your ID says you are no longer in service.”

“Our OCS manager will be here about one o’clock. She’s carrying all our paperwork,” Emily said. “This is a service deputation team on tour and will be performing tomorrow over there across the street.”

“Hopkins. Are you part of that rabble-rousing group? Let me tell you, if you incite civil unrest on this campus, we will come after you. Your best bet right now would be to pack up your bus and leave town,” the officer said.

“Really? You’ll put the campus police up against the Office of Civilian Service?” Em said. “I think we need your name, badge number, and supervisor’s number.”

“I’m the one writing the citation here. I’m retaining your ID until you’ve completed your day of campus service.”

“Meaning I can’t move the bus and since I’m the only qualified driver, it will have to stay parked here while you write a new citation every day. Is that what you’re driving at?” Em said. A car pulled into the lot and drove directly to us. Four guys jumped out pulling National Service armbands on.

“We’ll take over from here, officer,” the first said. “This is National Service business and is out of campus hands.”

“This vehicle is not allowed to park here,” the officer insisted.

“Call your office and check,” the NS rep said. “You’re out of the loop.” The campus cop stepped away and pulled out his phone. The National Service guy turned to Emily. “Sorry we weren’t here to greet you folks. We were told you wouldn’t arrive until this afternoon. I’m Tom Lester and will head your security team this week. We don’t expect any serious problems while you’re on campus but there’s a strong anti-reform faction here. We’ll keep at least two guys on duty outside your vehicle while you’re here and we’re planning on a dozen tomorrow as we lead up to your performance. Word is that Representative Collins is organizing a protest against your entire tour.”

“A protest?”

“He’s adamantly opposed to service reform and your performance is a direct attack on his campaign for reelection. He’s very popular around here,” Tom said.

“We’ll be watching you,” the campus cop said. “One misstep and we’ll still move in to enforce campus rules.” He turned away.

“My ID,” Emily demanded. The cop scowled at her and handed the ID back. I think he planned to keep it.

Indeed, there was a protest. It was outside the Krannert Center. The loading dock was down a ramp under the theaters. The bus fit, but I guess they’re used to full semi rigs driving down there. It took about thirty minutes to unload our gear. After that, Tom accompanied Emily as she drove to a dump station to empty our black and gray water tanks, and refill our fresh water tanks.

Close to a thousand people, most recently released from service or about to enter service, filled the Tryon Festival Theatre. Outside, it rained. I tried not to gloat about Representative Collins and his protesters standing with soggy placards and wet clothes.

As much protest as there was, I expected our crowd to be a tough sell, but they were more enthusiastic than Chicago had been. They greeted my call for reform candidates with cheers. Apparently, Collins was mostly popular among people old enough to have never had to serve. That said something about his campaign and what the 48,000 students at the university were up against.

The best part of the show was the dressing room. It had a shower and all seven of us cycled through. Emily got her shower after she pulled into the loading ramp after the show and we got things stowed. We pulled away from the campus and hit I-57 south, all of us too drained for any raucous sex. I sat up front next to Em as she drove us down to a campground about forty miles south of town. Jo had scouted the location, reserved a site, and led the way down there. As soon as we were camped, she continued on to St. Louis so she’d be there before we got there on Tuesday.

“Are we going to have the same kind of difficulty in St. Louis we had in Champaign?” I asked as we got under way Tuesday morning.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll have a different kind of trouble,” Donna said. “This venue is prepared for touring shows. They have three secure parking slots for traveling acts, complete with power and water. Jo will be at the site ahead of us and have the security and crew on site when we get there. We have seating for 1,500 again but the one thing they can’t guarantee is no hecklers. But the facility itself is not conducive to any protests. There just isn’t a convenient place for them to set up without blocking access, and that’s illegal.”