She
woke up to see the hotel alarm clock was exactly half an hour after the time
the alarm was supposed to have gone off.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa….”
was her siren call as she sprang out of bed, into some clothes and shoes over
her pajamas, and down the hall with her lone bag, dropping a fiver for the
housekeeper on the way out.
“…aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa….”
she continued down four flights of stairs, through the lobby as she tossed her
room key in the general direction of the concierge desk, through the revolving
door, and onto the bus idling right outside.
“…aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
– ” she was cut off as she ran all the way to the back of the full bus and
crashed into the rear seats. She took a
deep breath, saw everyone staring at her, and chose to exhale instead of
finishing her sentence.
The
bus immediately closed the doors and drove off, so she settled down into her
seat and took a brief nap to recover from her morning workout. She woke up hungry when the bus lurched to a
stop; she looked out the window and confusedly stared at a welcoming
beach. Everyone else filed out, but she
searched through her bag for her tour group itinerary to double-check: she
could have sworn that day was set for the trip to the human anatomy museum –
“Everybody
out!” someone in authority proclaimed. Must have changed tour guides at the hotel,
she thought as she brought up the rear of the disembarkees.
She
still fumbled through her bag as she shuffled behind the group; she realized
she also must have missed when they were distributing the matching hats and
T-shirts, because she was the only one dressed in civvies.
A
clipboard-wielding volunteer approached her: “Hi! You’re with these guys?”
“Uh,
yeah, I – ” fumble, fumble, fumble, “I, uh, I – ”
“You
can just hop on a group of three; here’s some gloves – ” gloves were handed to
her – “don’t walk on the dunes, and don’t touch any syringes!”
“What?”
“Thank
you for what you’re doing!” And they
moved on.
She
stared at the gloves. Was there an
archaeological dig scheduled on this trip?
Her missing itinerary would need to explain itself later.
She
followed the T-shirts and found a random group of three; she cursed herself for
never remembering the names of anyone she met unless they had been repeated to
her at least four times, and faces were a lost cause. She smiled at each and eagerly followed them
on to their beach adventure....
About
two minutes in, it became apparent that this was the most disgusting beach that
ever existed on a supposedly fun-filled getaway: among the pounds of broken
beer bottles, cigarette butts, candy wrappers, busted balloons, and dog poop
bags, she felt she could never face a beach again without seeing it as one
giant misplaced garbage can.
“I
found another soda can tab!”
“Got
it!”
She
saw the members of her group and all the others from her bus were actually picking
up the pieces of trash they were forced to encounter, and then taking
notes on a huge card – had their tour group been recruited by the local Parks
Department to do their job for them as part of the admission fee?!
Not
wanting to be the only one setting up her umbrella, mat, and boombox while
everyone else was working wholeheartedly on their unexciting scavenger hunt,
she slowly pulled on the gloves, set aside her bag, and began scooping up all
the gross fishing lures and plastic cutlery she saw within a two-foot radius,
which was a lot.
“Wait! How many were there?” One of her group was pointing at what she had
just dumped in a trash bag that they were dragging around on their excursion.
“What? I dunno, five maybe?” What difference did it make? One was too many, in her opinion, and they apparently
were surrounded by millions.
The
group member wrote notes on the card.
“Uh-huh, and were they all glass?”
“Uh,
no, I think there was a bit of string stuck in there too, yuck.”
“Plastic
or cloth?”
“The
blazes I know!”
The
recorder scrambled through the scummy trash bag, pulled out the string, and
nodded. “Plastic. And it actually goes in this garbage bag – ”
they held up a black bag – “`cause the white one’s for recycling.”
“…OK. So how long do we have to keep doing this?”
“About
four hours.”
Her
eyes widened and veins popped out as her companion was called away to take note
of some other piece of filth. She
grabbed the arm of the remaining group member: “When’s the trip?”
She
got a blank stare: “This is the trip.”
She
released the arm and made a note to self that she had to have a serious
discussion with her travel agent as soon as she could safely escape her
escorts.
“Wow,
a shotgun shell!”
“That’s
actually on the list!”
She
wandered with them as they gleefully scooped up water bottles, shattered mugs,
and someone’s lost friendship bracelet; to appear busy, she took her time
planting a biohazard flag next to a diaper that brazenly crossed their
path. Rounding a dune, she spotted the
mother lode:
“Hey
guys!” Her group turned to her as she
hoisted an anchor above her head.
“Should this go in trash or recycling?”
The
recorder blinked. “I think we’ll put a flag
next to it for pickup later.”
“Suit
yourself!” She let it crash back to the
sand.
At
the four-hour mark, they all headed back to the parking lot with their
abominable treasures and scientific catalog of waste, exhausted yet joyful with
the good deeds they had done that day.
“I
feel that I am a better person because of all this,” she half-said to herself
as she settled in her comfy seat at the back of the bus. “The world is now a cleaner place because of
me, and the fish and birds can swim and fly free of the detritus that would
have severely hindered their lifestyles, all because I was there to make
things right with Mother Nature. The
world will now live, and it’s all thanks to me.”
“All
right, folks,” the person in authority addressed them from the front of the
bus. “Rest up as much as you can, `cause
we’re hitting the other two beaches before dinner.”
“WHAT?!”
