Babysitting Adults

Slacker Jonas takes what he believes will be an easy job.

Jonas needed a job. If he knew anything, he knew that. Fortunately, his father was there to remind him of this fact should Jonas ever forget, or give the impression of forgetting. Jonas was quite intelligent. A fact he did not like to advertise for when people figured out how intelligent he was, they expected Jonas to do things. Moreover, Jonas was not a fan of doing things. He was what some might call a "pretty boy." Certainly, he was handsome, and Jonas found this fact especially pertinent in the bigger scheme of getting people to do things for him. A wink and flash of his bright, white, and dimpled smile usually settled transactions in his favor.

In the nearly 28 years Jonas was alive, he had always managed to get by, something that was just right for him. He had no great ambitions. He made peace with the fact that he probably would not develop a cure for cancer or discover the location of the lost city of Atlantis. However, he was always on hand when a friend needed cheering up or someone with whom to go to jail. Jonas seldom found himself employed with regularity, and grew accustomed to change and adapting to new people and places. He felt he would have made an excellent hobo, and looked mournfully on the fact that the age of the hobo was past, at least in the traditional sense.

Jonas' father informed him that he had called in a few favors and found him a job. A job to be taken with the utmost seriousness.

"What kind of job?" Jonas asked, squinting his eyes.

"My buddy ray owns a private security firm.."

"Dad, you lost me at security; sounds like it could be a lot of work."

"And how would you know wise guy? You didn't let me finish. He needs chaperones for some kind of sorority formal."

"A formal? Like a party?"

"Yeah, like a party."

"Well, now you're talking my language. Getting paid to party. That's awesome!" Jonas exclaimed.

"You ain't gettin paid to party. You getting paid to keep the people who are partying out of trouble."

"Like a narc? That's less awesome."

"I don't give a damn. You go to this address at 5:00 and don't you be late," Jonas' father handed him a post it note, and gave him a stern look, "Do right this time, or you're out of here. It's time to grow up."

Jonas arrived at the address promptly at 5:27, greeted by a sallow, frowning dwarf of a man who went over what was expected of Jonas. The man handed him a navy blue polo shirt and a cap to wear signifying that he was security.

"You gone be on one seventh of a fleet of chartered buses bound for Willow Heights Country Club. I'm putting you on the 18 and 19 year olds' buses. Now, listen here," he leaned in, on the verge of something profound, "They cannot...drink…alcohol."

"No! Who's doing this to America's youth?!" Jonas exclaimed

The dwarf man was not amused and brought a withering stare down on Jonas,

"I don't suffer smart asses. Do you understand or not?"

"Yeah, I get that they shouldn't drink, dude," Jonas said.

"Just so long as we're clear that they must remain sober. Everything else will be cake."

"Roger that," Jonas replied.

A tall giant of a man called Smitty showed Jonas to his bus, and gave him a roster. Alongside of the bus was a line of formally dressed, whooping and yelling sorority girls with their black tie equally excited dates. One girl was off to the side vomiting on the pavement. All of them seemed to require the bus or each other to remain upright and steady. The entire area reeked of alcohol.

"Hey, uh, clipboard," Jonas turned back toward Smitty, "I'm supposed to be with the 18 and 19 year olds."

"And that's them, hat," he replied.

"They're drunk. And there's like 50 of them."

"Yep. 58 to exact," the man pointed at the final tally on the roster, "Enjoy."

Jonas regarded the sight in front of him with some dismay and much amusement. The youths began to take notice him.

"Hey sweet cheeks!" one drunken girl catcalled.

"Back at ya." Jonas said.

He looked at the list of names and at the group of people, and felt the easiest solution for him would be to urge everyone to be aware of their neighbor and to notify him if that situation changed. One of the girls' dates fell ripping an expensive tuxedo jacket and the group launched into laughter. Jonas considered for the first time that these kids came from the types of families who would fly off the handle if he were to misplace one of them, and grudgingly made peace with the fact that he was actually going to have to account for the group.

"Cop dude! We're ready to PARTY!" a drunken boy yelled out, supported by various agreements from the crowd.

"Yeah, hold your cookies. I need to talk to the driver, and then we'll be ready to go."

The crowd booed Jonas as he stepped on to bus and he turned back and said,

"Yeah, thanks!"

The sight that met Jonas in the driver's seat startled him. It seemed he had inherited bus driver whose gender was not readily apparent. He/she was round and large breasted and sported a neatly groomed mustache. Shortly curly hair capped off the driver's head. While the driver was flipping through a paperback novel with a muscled shirtless man carrying an unconscious woman horseback along a beach on the cover, Jonas mouthed "Wow" to himself

"Hi, I'm Jonas. I'm the chaperone for this bus."

The driver looked up, regarded Jonas with mild disinterest, and spoke with a voice that varied in pitch,

"I'm Pat," he/she said in a very masculine yet feminine edge.

Jonas was disappointed that the neither the voice nor the name provided any additional clues to the driver's gender, so he decided to make the best of the situation and quipped,

"Oh, cool like 'It's Pat'!"

Pat blinked blankly and gave Jonas a quizzical look.

"You know, from Saturday Night Live?"

"I don't watch cartoons young man," Pat responded.

"Alighty then. I'm gonna get everyone on the bus," Jonas replied, brokenhearted that his reference had fallen flat.

Outside Jonas began the painstaking labor of calling names and allowing the individuals to whom the names belonged to board the bus. He made the mistake of believing the group would calm down some when they got on the bus, but this was erroneous. They screamed, whooped, and had contests with neighboring buses to compare their "krunk" levels.

Once everyone was aboard, Jonas boarded himself and a cacophony of sounds coming from the partyers hit him. Additionally, Pat who did not care for the ruckus, joined in.

"Young man! Young man! Get them under control! This won't do!" Pat was clearly agitated.

"Hey, hey, hey! Cool it!" Jonas said, "I'm Jonas; I'll be your cruise director for this evening, and you all know Pat here. Let's settle down and get on our way."

Jonas looked around for his seat and saw none was left. Turning to Pat,

"Yo, Pat, where am I supposed to sit?"

"You probably don't need to be sitting if you're going to be keeping an eye on these heathens. They had better not mess up my seats," Pat replied navigating the bus onto the highway.

Jonas remained standing at the front of the bus in everyone's eye line, and at Pat's insistence continued to scold and reprimand the kids for being so drunken and disorderly. Jonas found it difficult to maintain any semblance of authority as he tried gracefully to remain standing as the bus careened down the highway at 70 miles per hour. As several of the partyers broke out flasks, Jonas reminded them that alcohol was forbidden.

"I don't want to see any flasks," he directed.

The bus was stifling hot and smelled of sweaty alcohol. Jonas couldn't decide if he was getting motion sickness or a contact inebriation. Jonas walked down the aisle and did a second count of his chickens, and as he made his way back up to the front, he felt someone smack his rear end.

"Hey! Hands off the merchandise!" he said to an eruption of laughter.

"Officer, I'm not gonna lie to you because I wouldn't like to an officer of the law, but I am bored," a blonde girl slurred to Jonas.

"He's not an officer, he's the cruise director," responded a drunken frat boy.

"Hey let's watch a movie!" one girl crowed.

Finally, this was a break he was looking for, the bus was equipped with a DVD and video screens. As Jonas consulted with Pat, one girl demanded to watch Twilight, and that set the entire crowd off, all of them demanding to see Twilight.

Pat broke Jonas' heart when he/she informed him that the DVD player was dysfunctional, and the only selection of entertainment Pat could offer anyway was a wide selection of DVD gospel performances. As he relayed this turn of events to the crowd, Jonas was met with agitation and hostility. He was beginning to think his charges were demonically possessed.

"Hey, okay, look here's another option, as I have not read the book or seen this movie, perhaps one of you could give me the summary, and I will act it out for you in lieu of the actual film; otherwise you're out of luck."

Jonas was thankful that no one wanted to see that and congratulated himself on his successful bluff. He then solicited requests from the audience for songs they could all sing together. Once that lost its novelty, they had a question and answer session that mostly revolved around how single Jonas was. There was a nice public service announcement moment when Jonas tripped on a contraband soda bottle filled with liquor. He hoped that it served to illustrate the dangers of smuggling booze.

"Okay, who is this?" Jonas demanded.

"That was here when we got on dude."

"Yeah, we're sober totally," garbled a pale faced blonde girl, "We're gooooo" she vomited all on the back of the seat in front of her.

"What was that?! Did someone just mess up my seats?!" Pat screeched.

Jonas looked back toward Pat and said,

"Uh, no she spilled her Skittles, but she's picking them up." Jonas responded, glaring at the girl and her date.

After what seemed like an eternity, they arrived at the country club. Pat was too frightened to try to turn the bus in at the entrance of the country club, opting instead to park on the street nearly half a block away. Jonas had to herd his group like lopsided cattle in the direction of the country club because they all wanted to scatter into the neighborhood.

Once inside, everyone bottle necked at the bar that was set up for those of drinking age. Jonas was dismayed to find his group at the head of the line for alcohol. He thought the vomiting incident had taught them all a valuable lesson.

Everyone migrated into the ballroom that was equipped with tables, chairs and a live band. There was much spirited dancing and talking. Despite the heat and noise, Jonas found the drunken antics of the partyers to be amusing. One girl came in, shaking with exciting, and given the distinct impression that she might urinate on herself at any time.

"OH MY GOD! I just want to sit down and TALK!" she screamed

.

Jonas looked on with amusement, and noticed a crowd had begun to gather at one corner of the room. None of the other chaperones seemed to notice it, and it was hard to tell exactly what was going on over the music and voices, so he walked over to see what the fuss was. Dancing in the middle of a group of mostly drunk frat boys was an inebriated sorority girl whose strapless dress had fallen to her waist exposing her bare breasts. A fact that escaped her awareness. Jonas scattered the crowd, and told the girl to pull her dress up and stop giving away the farm.

As Jonas made his way around the room, a frat boy who informed him that a drunk girl was in the men's room stopped him. Jonas went into the men's room, and sure enough, a girl was applying lipstick around her lips. When he approached her and told her she was in the men's room, she chastised him,

"Oh my God! You have to get out of here this is the girls bathroom you pervert."

"No no, it's the men's room," Jonas gestured around, "see the urinals and the dudes?"

"I don't think so. Has it always been like this?"

"Yes. You need to go next door," Jonas replied.

The girl followed his direction and promptly found the nearest closet in which to vomit. It was at last time to reboard the buses and head home. Jonas had lost most of his patience; his head and back and feet were all throbbing, and he didn't take any flak from anyone about getting back onto the bus with a mortified Pat. One the way out he heard someone say,

"Who's dad is that?"

Pat pulled out onto the street to make the trek home. Once again at the head of his group on the bus Jonas commanded their silent attention with a ferocious edge to his voice. He let the silence wash over them for a moment and then spoke,

"I'm going to have to ask you to bring your crunk levels down a few notches so as to not kill Pat because not being Sandra Bullock, I cannot operate this bus, and Pat and I just cannot handle any more noise on the way back"

About that time, a frat boy pulled out a flask and began to take a swig. Jonas snatched the flask and tossed it out the opened window next to him.

"If I see another flask or bottle that I even suspect contains alcohol, I am going to throw it out the window and I will laugh. Settle down, be quiet, and don't mess up Pat's seats!"

Jonas was exhausted as it was nearly 2 a.m. when they arrived back at the rendezvous point. Most of his group slept the whole way back. He was thrilled to find that his bus was the first loaded and the first to arrive. Additionally, he had not lost anyone or come with any extras. All in all Jonas felt it was a successful outing. He was leaning on the side of the bus reveling in his success when Pat screamed from the back of the bus. Jonas remembered the vomit and ran for his car as Pat yelled obscenities at him.