Slowly I Turned

So I got back to Vero Beach in the depth of summer, 1982 to find that the Bowers family had been tipped out of the house they had been renting on 10th street, and were now down at the end of my street in the Bon Air Apartments. It was a tiny place- a kitchen/living room, a bedroom and a bathroom. 13-year-old Heather was sleeping on the couch in the living room/kitchen. All three of them spent a lot of time at my place, collectively or individually.

Heather and I were talking one hot hot day. I was telling her all about my latest trip, and she was telling me she'd never been farther from Vero Beach than Daytona. In a deranged moment I told her I'd take her to see snow this winter. Little did I know then that a few short months later...

Early November, 1982. Much cooler out, the Bowers family renting a house from my parents, Craig working full time at Emerson Art Service and doing a fine job. I was sound man for Craig's new band, making fifty bucks per gig. All good stuff. So Heather says to me, she says, "So when are we going to see snow?" "Huh?" I replied. "You know. You promised you'd take me to see snow this winter." "Huh?" I replied. Thus began a new plan. A week before Christmas, when work slowed down for the holidays, Heather and I would board a bus to New York City, see the fully decorated sights, and from there figure out where to find snow. I ran it by Craig and Linda. They were cool with it. I told my boss, my dad, and he was cool with it. My mother had her usual gloom and doom message about the dangers of bus travel, plus a new disaster, being busted for traveling with a 13-year-old unrelated girl. Believe it or not, I was undeterred.

Saving up for trips was something I was good at. By mid- December I had plenty for two 7-day Ameripasses plus meals and lodgings. We boarded our bus on the afternoon of Friday, December 17th, to tearful good-byes from her mother. I told them we'd be back on Christmas Eve or die trying. They told me that if I lost Heather, I'd better not come back. I smiled. Bus trips don't scare me.

It was around 11:00 that night that we changed buses in Jacksonville. Heather and I walked around a while. She was overawed by all the tall buildings. "Just you wait, Kid," I said. Georgia, the Carolinas and Virginia went by. It was late Saturday night when we hit Washington DC. We stayed on the bus. Early early Sunday morning I was back in New York City, buying another City Edition Sunday New York Times for Michael B. and another fresh bagel for me. Heather wanted a McDonalds breakfast. Easily done. There was one in the Port Authority Bus Terminal. On our way out, we watched a mean-looking guy with a tie tied around his head being led away in handcuffs by the police. Heather was dismayed.

Across the street, at the Times Square Hotel, my mother's theory of my impending incarceration was put to the test. "We want a room for one night," I said. The desk clerk looked us over. "One bed or two," he asked. "Two, please," I said.

We rested for a bit, then went out to explore. I had told her about The American Museum of Natural History, and she wanted to see it. We took the subway right to the entrance of the museum. She was flabberghasted first that such a thing was possible, and second that I could figure out how to do it. We went through the museum, and she was impressed by it. Then we came out to get some lunch. "I want spaghetti," she said. "I want pastrami on rye," I said. So we found a little hole in the wall place that served both. She was more impressed.

We returned to the hotel, and she called home. "Yeah," she told them. "We're at the Times Square Hotel. It's across the street from the 'SEX SEX SEX ALL NUDE REVUE' Theater." She told them about the subway and the museum and the guy with the tie. They didn't ask to talk to me. I guess they were cool with all this. We went to a movie in the afternoon, had supper in the restaurant in the hotel, and went to our two beds, exhausted.

First thing Monday we packed up, checked out and put our stuff in lockers at the bus station. The guy with the tie around his head was there again. Anyway, we wanted to do three things: go to Rockefeller Center to see the tree and see if there were tickets available for Letterman- there weren't; go to the top of the World Trade Center- we did; and go to the Statue of Liberty. So we left the World Trade Center and descended into the subways. Looking at the map, we decided that we needed to change trains at West 4th Street/Washington Square. We rode the train there and got off. We figured out which train to catch to the Battery. A train came, and we got on. Suddenly, Heather said, "This is the wrong train," and got off. The doors closed between us, and off I went in a total panic. I got off at the next stop, crossed over and caught the next train back- only it didn't go back the same way. I got off at the next stop, taking careful note of where I was. I got out my map, found my current location, found West 4th Street/Washington Square, and started running. On the trains, several people had told me I'd never find her, to just go to the police. Undeterred, I ran across Soho, across Greenwich Village and found the station. Thankful for my pocket full of subway tokens, I dashed through the turnstiles to the platform where she had been. I arrived just in time to see Heather and a policeman stepping onto a train. "HEATHER!!!!!!!" I called in my Dodgertown 'CHARGE!' voice. They stepped back, the doors closed, the train left, and all was well. I showed my ID to the cop. He shook his head and said we were very lucky. I knew that.

A couple of years after we were there, the Statue was refurbished and strengthened. We wound up the spiral stairs inside the rusty, crumbling Statue, and looked out the crown. That was as far as people could go in those days. It was enough. She really liked the boat ride, too.

We went back to Rockefeller Center to see the tree all lit up, and watched the skaters for a while. We ate at the deli inside, looking at the autographed pictures of people who had eaten there.

And then the time came to go to the bus station and ask about snow. We asked at the ticket counter, but nobody knew. One of them said we should ask the drivers, that they should know. We went to the gates and asked a small gaggle of drivers. They all looked at each other and said "Buffalo. There's always snow in Buffalo. Hell, they make snow in Buffalo." As a bonus, Craig grew up just outside of Buffalo. Sold. We validated to Buffalo. It was around 9:00, and the bus was at 11:00. We wandered around the huge Port Authority Bus Terminal for a while, buying snacks and playing arcade games. She was great at Frogger and Donkey Kong.

It was sad to leave New York City, as always. But in the morning, we were sure there would be snow. I woke her up in Syracuse. It was snowing and there were a couple inches of snow on the ground. We had a twenty minute rest stop, so we got off the bus. Heather picked up a handfull of snow, and surprise played on her face. 'It's cold!" she said.

There was a foot and a half of fairly wet snow on the ground in Buffalo. There was a park nearby where we made angels, we built a snowman, we threw snowballs at each other. And when we had had enough fun playing in the snow, we went back to the bus station. There was a poster on the wall advertising trips to Niagara Falls, Ontario. Dast we go to Canada and back? We dast, we dast!

The coolest thing about Niagara Falls was that the mist had frozen on everything- trees, buildings, road signs, roads, sidewalks- everything. It was beautiful there, all decorated for Christmas and covered with snow and ice. The falls were awe-inspiring. The hot chocolate and coffee were excellent. We hung out there for a few hours, then faced the grilling to get back home. I showed my ID, Heather showed her library card, they checked their lists twice to find out if we were naughty or nice, and kindly let us come home.

We did a lot of sleeping on the way to Baltimore. When we got to the city, Heather wanted to try ice skating. We went to the outdoor rink downtown and rented skates. It was fun, even if she wasn't very good at it. Roller skating just doesn't prepare you for the ice variety.

I had called the Shetrones and Buinickases to let them know we were coming. The Shetrones picked us up downtown, and we had dinner and spent Wednesday night with them. Then we transferred to the Buinickases for a half-day or so and delivered the Times, before we caught the train from BWI Station to Washington. It was Thursday, December 23rd. We had to boogie!

All we saw of DC that night was the stretch between Union Station and the Greyhound station. I bought a one-day extension of our Ameripasses, and validated them to Vero Beach, Florida. We left around 7:00.

Heather fell in with a gaggle of teenagers headed south on Friday. She didn't acknowledge my existence until after they got off in Daytona. But we were buds again by the time we arrived in Vero Beach, unscathed, exactly on schedule, Christmas Eve 1982.