I was catching a bus back from a foreign place. It was a long trip and many other people were on the journey. The bus driver stopped to take his break 15 minutes before we were due to get into the city. A man had been sitting next to me on the bus. He was Spanish. I asked him where he was going and he said, "Nicky." Later I realized what he meant was NYC (pronounced "Nicky--"C" as in "cat"). We waited an awfully long time and the driver never came back. He had taken the bus keys. We were waiting in Aunt Jenny 's driveway. I knocked on the door, front. It was Lois who came to the door. She was busy. Bryan was not playing tennis. While waiting for the bus driver people began unpacking their lunches. There were pop tarts broken "just right" for a shoot. One was strawberry. One was apple. A girl brought out a chicken leg, fried, as big as a turkey leg, but it was a chicken leg. It was wrapped in many leaves of lettuce. I wondered what she did about the chicken bone. I said, "You must be from California." And she said, "No, I'm from near Denver, Colorado." I said, "People in California eat lettuce." She said, "We eat more lettuce in Colorado. We try to get all out vegetables at once. About half a head." Finally the bus driver came back and said, "OK everybody, back on the bus." We were happy to be moving. We got as far as the gas station. Everyone shifted responsibility for who was going to pump. The gas was $1.29/gallon. The driver went out and he never came back. We were sitting on the bus waiting. Eventually we were either air-lifted out or continued on boats through canals and floods. Some were large inflated rafts with paddles. Some are free (empty), waiting on the pier. I saw Dora. She wanted to hear the Mozart I'd been working on. She had barely chipped (her tooth) and the dentist fixed it lousy. I knew she could get it done right. I did NOT want to go to Say Smith's wedding/birthday party. That crowd was too involved in the town's business.