This seat is taken

Day Three (or is it fourteen) on the bus:

Another "Tits up, Girlfriend" kind of day. I'll just sum it up in one word: Laramie. All the goodness (theirs) and fear (ours) you could ever imagine. I'm sure others will chronicle the day better than I frankly care to.

To be honest, I am just too beat. And nervous. I will be speaking at the next stop, Cheyenne. It's been announced that this will be an easy stop. Not if it's your turn to speak up.

Everyone has just been pouring his or her heart out, day after day (cut me some slack I KNOW it's only day 3), hour after hour. Just like the early Quilt days. At least we let each other cry. All the "emotional support people" types seem to be in the back of the bus. I am not. Decidedly not.

In fact, one of the reasons I am such a mess is that I have become increasingly aware of where I sit on the bus. I am the only person on the bus who is sitting alone. I have no seatmate. The seat next to me is always empty.

Around a half hour ago I realized that the seat is not empty. That seat is taken: it's Rebecca's seat. Why am I not surprised.

And don't I just feel all better knowing THAT, rolling into Cheyenne.

Somebody better buy this dyke a cocktail in Denver.