| I was at band camp. (If you say that line from American Pie, I will rip off your arm and shove it down your throat. I’ve heard it enough times, thanks muchly.) Along with me and the band was a special guest-Jon Bermuda Schwartz! I had forgotten my horn, so during the morning I marched holding two purple step aerobics steps. (And that was fun, let me tell ya.) Finally it was time for lunch. I walked into the cafeteria with my lunch bag. Every seat was filled. There was nowhere to sit. (There were benches, and each bench could comfortably hold ten. All of them had at least fifteen people on them.) I looked around, thinking perhaps I could sit on the floor somewhere, but the stern lunch ladies gave me a look that dripped of eagerness to exile me from band camp. Suddenly Bermuda (who was seated at the center table) turned around and saw me. “Megan!” He waved to me. “Come sit over here!” I walked over and looked again…still no seats. He patted his lap. “Oh! Okay!” I maneuvered myself onto his lap and had a nice lunch. Every time I tried to pick up my food, I started to fall. Finally, Bermuda told me to hold onto the table and he fed me. After that wonderful lunch, I headed over to the pool. My pal Anna was there, lifeguarding. I went over to her chair and showed her a picture someone had taken of me on Bermuda’s lap eating lunch. (I don’t remember anyone taking the picture or giving it to me. All I know is that it ended up in my pocket.) At that point, one of the men in the pool stood up (in the three foot deep water) and started yelling that she needed to pay attention to them, not to me, and that they all could have drowned. I waved bye to Anna and headed back to the communal band stuff room, where I discovered that the hockey players (who normally inhabited our facility) had completely trashed the room because they didn’t like the band. My Take On It Next Dream |
| Breaking Bread with Bermuda 7/8/02 |