Just Getting There
"Yew cain't git thar from herre." They used to say.
When the next town was thirty miles, and a day, away.
Though I miss those West Virginia hills,
I've traded them in for big city ills.
Like going to a reception the other day.
For me, there seemed to be, only one way.
Ride a big van, radio dispatched, with private driver and A/C.
Carrying three wheel chairs and up to ten ambulatory.
For a week we plotted and schemed,
Called for reservations early, or so it seemed.
But, in a traffic jam of calls and busy signals got through to them an hour too late.
Only one dance card left; but we still had a date.
Was it with fate?
Took the whole day off to party, then dressed to the nines.
"She's just down the street." Dispatch lied.
Fifteen minutes, I figured between the lines.
We rushed to be ready, hearts beating fast; but, oh, the cost.
Fifty minutes later, she finally arrived. Excuses were tossed, but the fact is, she'd been lost.
I asked if we'd get there on time?
The supervisor gave me the same old arrival line.
When we got underway, we were shocked to find out.
That we had to go still much further out.
To pick up another and drop her off first.
That put us between a rock, a hard place, or worse.
When she heard that, my good friend and helper made such an outburst.
Insisting, we head on home, "Now!", or else.
After seventy minutes on the road, we reached home and party's end at precisely the same time.
Our day turned into total bust; and, oh, how stupid of us.
Why didn't we just take a bus?
Copyright 1998 © Ronald W. Hull