As we had explored around Hollywood, legal officials had removed our Jeep. Our band was told it was "impounded" and now we needed to travel many miles from where we stood with no means to transport ourselves.
A lovely plump, dark skinned woman, who introduced herself as Roselyn, came upon us and offered her assistance. She had a disposition warmer than a campfire, and could not dote on Little Pomp more. Roselyn told us we could accompany her on the "bus." She asked if we had exact change, as it was needed to reimburse the driver. Jean Baptise pulled out our collective coins and inquired what the cost would be. When Roselyn said one dollar and fifty cents, I believe all of us felt our hopes dashed. The kindly woman examined our money. She asked of which country was its origin. Immediately we knew. We were carrying United States currency, and here we stood in the Spanish Territory. Still a flower of a woman, Roselyn told us she would happily pay our fare. Clark insisted we could not accept her kindness as it were impolite to impose on a lady. Roselyn laughed and sat us down on a bench.
As we waited, Roselyn kept a lively conversation with Sacagawea and Little Pomp. All at once, Little Pomp ran to his father to show him a banknote Roselyn was carrying. For Spanish tender, we were astonished. The banknote had a drawing of our first president, George Washington! Were the Spanish being financed by our government? Why would the First Bank of the United States have its currency so far from home?
Before my inquisitive nature could retrieve an answer, the "bus," of which Roselyn spoke, stood before us. It appeared to rival the size of our frigates! We six filtered in the doorway and were immediately met by dozens of eyes. As soon as we found seats, the eyes went back to engaging in their own business.
The bus rode bumpier than Jeep, but still in no way could compare to the struggles of our wagon passing through the Rocky Mountains. Many times the bus would stop. Some would enter, some would depart. Sacagawea spent her time getting directions from Roselyn to the location in which our Jeep was now sequestered.
Even though the bus was traveling very quickly, the time seemed to linger, making all of us weary. Clark already had slumped back his head in an attempt to sleep. I found myself in a stupor, reading every bit of signage we passed. The Irish had settled here with their "McDonald's" establishments. There were trading posts named after the proprietor, Joe. But what amazed me most was the English had partnered with the Spanish! I knew instantly the two countries intended to disguise their imminent attack on our fledgling country. On virtually every corner were disguised meeting places, no doubt housing an army commissioned by the King of Burgers! This discovery forced me to shake Clark awake, to which he muddled in a voice still in slumber, "Have we arrived yet?" Obviously sleep was not going to relinquish him anytime in the near future. Roselyn leaned to me and said "Burger King" was merely an eatery. But her words could not alleviate my suspicions.
We bid farewell to our companion, Roselyn, and a short time later, finally had reached our destination. However, once we departed the bus, Sacagawea showed us the map she had drawn from Roseyln's directions. As it stood, our band was facing another lengthy journey, now on foot.
Until Tomorrow, My Friends
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