The only place on earth you can get away with screaming, "Look! It's a dwarf!" Although Tim still felt compelled to correct me: "They're called little people," he said. (We're not wet due to rain, but because we'd just ridden on Splash Mountain six times.)

Armed Robbery: The Post Game

Once we leave the restuarant, Tim wants to go to a convenience store to get some beer.

“Are you crazy?” I exclaimed. “They’re even better targets for robberies than burrito places. No way.”

“But, sweetie,” he patiently explains. “I don’t have any cold ones in the… ”

“No, no, no, no NO!” I cry. I will not relent, so rather than upset me more, he agrees to the compromise that I make him the martini of his choice. No problemo; I was planning to down a few myself. Actually, Tim wasn’t too upset that he couldn’t get a beer. He was in a great mood, as he figured that now, my bus phobia simply had to be cured.

In retrospect, the would-be assailant was none too bright. Why didn’t he wait outside until the woman was near the till rather than toward the back? And, since he was already in the joint, why didn’t he run over and take our money? Frankly, it kind of adds insult to injury to be so frightened by a robber who’s such a moron. I think I might be feeling better by now if he had been just a teensy bit higher up on the food chain.

Wonderful Burritos, But the Floor Show Needs Work

Our first night in Tucson, we head straight for our favorite local fast food Mexican place (you just can’t get good Mexican in Boulder). Strangely, we’re the only customers at Sanchez Burrito Company. We chalk it up to a Monday night. We order our usuals from the last time we ate here, when we were locals 12 years before. In a few minutes, the woman behind the counter tells us our food is ready. We bring it to a table and dig in. Ummmm…. Huh? We hear a man’s voice yelling in front. We figure the cook and the woman are fooling around, until we hear her scream. Tim looks up to see a hooded, bandana’d man pointing a Glock toward the counter and says under his breath, “they’re being robbed. He has a gun. Don’t move.” Good advice; the only way out of the place is past the guy. The woman has run into the back with the cook and slammed a door. We try to make like the furniture. He glances over at us. Tim catches his eye. The would-be robber hesitates, then runs out the door. Tim tells me to get under a table and give him my cell phone. I comply. He sheilds me as he calls 911. We don’t know if the guy ran out back to try to find the woman, or if he’s planning to come back in to find us. Tim wants to go up front to look around, rather than be “cornered like rats.” I beg him not to go... pull at his belt loops. I’m afraid he’ll run into the guy. Within minutes, there are 6 cops surrounding the restaurant. The cook comes out, shaken. The woman comes out, crying. Tim gives the cops a good description, but neither he nor the woman ever saw the guy’s face. I had my back to it all and didn’t see a thing. We return to our meal. Tim eats heartily. I’m no longer hungry, and besides, my hands are shaking too much to handle the silverware. I take a swig from his beer. A big swig. The first of many. I hate beer. I don’t care.

As we leave, Tim tells the woman, “Wonderful burritos, but the floor show needs work.”

She's ready for her close up.

We’ve reached the half-way point in our trip and although all of us have been changed in some way, no one more so than Shula. It’s as if she’s been possessed… by a normal cat. At home, she would dive under the bed covers as soon as guests entered the house, not to be seen again until hours after their departure. She continued this paranoid way of looking at the world (or not looking, I suppose) when we began our journey, especially whenever the bus was in motion. It was always Morty who has been our fearless feline, growling and throwing himself against the window whenever a strange animal dared enter his yard. But lately, Shula has acquired balls -- specifically Morty’s. Now, she’s the one who hisses and spits when he gets too close to her. She’s even taken a swipe or two at both her brothers. Tim and I constantly debate about what has brought about this change in her. I believe that a life in motion is making her irritable, (for Shula, is living on the bus akin to being eternally transported in a cat carrier to the vet?). Tim thinks that she’s simply emboldened by the newfound knowledge that if she can survive this, she can survive anything. Predictably, our discussions about the causes of her new behavior get more heated whenever we’re on the road and my bus phobia rears its ugly head. But, I have to concede, he may be right, for the second he starts up the bus, she makes a dive -- not for the bed covers, but for the front seat. She even remains there most of the day, even when strangers enter the bus. And, if they feel compelled to pet our gorgeous Balinese, she… lets them. Now, I’m not saying she’s particularly happy about it, but she does allow it. Even Morty has noted the change in his sister and rather than taking her on, simply walks away from her outbursts. Perhaps he’s mellowing, which unlike his father, never seemed to be one of his goals for our trip. As for Miles, he still believes the entire world exists to lavish praise and affection on him, a notion only reinforced by our travels. Perhaps the poodle will be the only one unaffected by our adventure.