I climbed onto the bus with equal roughly measures of curiosity and trepidation, though I probably wouldn't have admitted to the former. This would be the strangest ride I've ever been on. I was still reeling a bit from what Coach had told me about this particular vehicle. It was an experimental model that attempted to cut costs and reduce waste by eschewing lavatories altogether in favor of upholstering the seats in a cutting-edge fabric that was supposed to be super-absorbent, self-sanitizing, and fast-drying. Apparently, budget cuts to our collegiate cheerleading squad had meant that helping the developers test their unusual invention was the only way we could attend this competition. So, although I was still a bit squeamish about the whole thing, I'd been dreaming about participating in this nationwide event for years, and I wasn't about to let something like this stop me.
I was still half-suspicious that this was an elaborate prank. After all, even if the fabric actually works, you still have to count on being seated next to someone you know well enough for shyness not to be an issue, and that seems like a tall order. When I brought this up, Coach said something about plans to add a mechanism for individual as well as pair privacy, but for a sports team that shared a locker room anyway, that finishing touch didn't seem worth delaying the trials of the seats, which were the main point. Still, the whole idea just struck me as weird. How exactly all this technology was less costly than a normal lavatory was beyond me.
"Do you really think Coach was serious about this?" I asked my best friend Natalie as we made our way to the most posterior seats still available.
"Well, Tracy," she replied, briefly inspecting one of several navy-blue curtains hanging from a rod that ran the length of the bus on each side of the aisle. "If these privacy curtains are any indication, I'd say yes." I reached up with my duffel bag to toss it into the overhead compartment, but my tall blonde friend smirked as I struggled a bit to reach. "Being short sucks," I pouted.
Natalie tossed her own bag up with an ease that taunted me and claimed the window seat. "You're not that short," she chuckled as she put our large shared tote bag of entertainment and other provisions at our feet. "And besides, you have enough curves to make up for whatever you lack in height."
I muttered an unconvinced, "Thanks," and sat down next to her and tucked a lock of dark brown hair behind my ear self-consciously.
"Seriously, I'd kill for your cleavage," she muttered back.
"Alright, I get it!" I said, my mild annoyance quickly giving way to amusement. "You turn your fair share of male heads, too, you know."
"True," she admitted with a smugness that made me laugh despite myself.
The bus quickly filled up, and a quick glance to the front showed Coach apparently nearing the end of her head check. In another five minutes, the bus shook briefly with ignition as our roughly eight-hour journey began. Once we were on a long stretch of highway, Natalie reached in to our tote, pulled out two big bottles of water, and offered one to me.
"Nat! Seriously?"
"C'mon! Coach always wants us to hydrate ourselves on the way to an event to have us ready for warm-ups as soon as we arrive. She always has no matter what we were riding, remember? Honestly, I'm surprised we haven't had hardly any accidents on any of our other trips." She paused. "In a way, this bus is a solution to a problem that's been looming over us since day one. Because of the hydration policy, the threat of accidents was always hanging over our heads. Now, we can have our cake and eat it too, so to speak!"