We were supposed to take a taxi. Maybe two taxis or one minivan.
Standing outside the Sheraton in downtown Chicago with a group of people who were going to dinner, we asked the Sheraton man if he could get us a minivan cab.
That was our preference so that we could all go together.
He told us we’d have to take two taxis.
About that time, a man walked up to us and said, he had a party bus we could take. It would be $6.00 per person.
My daughter-in-law, who was organizing the weekend, looked at me and the others and we all shook and said, “Sure”.
My daughter-in-law and I both thought it would be a school bus type setup.
Our group, including a few kids, trotted across the street and climbed into the bus.
The kids got in first and we heard screams of delight.
Well, don’t you know, this was no school bus. It was a party bus, complete with a nice, shiny, pole in the aisle, stars on the ceiling, purple lights, disco lights that twinkled all around and seats that stretched around the wall of the bus.
Indeed, it was a “Party Bus”.
Immediately, kids began climbing the pole. They thought the pole was for them to climb on instead of luscious babes spinning on it.
As soon as we took off, the stern system rocked and we rolled.
The adults cracked up as we road through the streets of downtown Chicago like the “Real Housewives of Chicago.”
The men wondered what the heck they were doing in this thing.
We got to our destination pretty quickly. We ate the best deep-dish Chicago pizza at Lou Malnati’s.
After dinner, when it was time to return to the hotel, we looked at each other.
“Party bus,” the kids said.
And so it was, that night and the night after, we traveled by party bus.
The adults stayed off the pole, but the kids?
They mastered that pole. And had a grand time doing it.