Well, finally it was over. Susan looked across at her husband who was driving, his eyes steady on the road ahead. It was because of him and his best friend that they had to make this trip. But now it was over. She let out a sigh and turned to watch the scenery go by. Wide green fields, large trees, big beautiful homes, small town storefronts, four-lanes of cars and trucks rushing up the turnpike toward a big blue sky: all that New Jersey had to offer.

George, Mike’s best friend, had invited Mike to come to his son’s wedding. How could Mike turn this down? He told Susan about the wedding. He told her she could stay home, but he wished she would come. She didn’t want to disappoint him.

The ceremony was held in a beautiful old church in a suburban neighborhood.  It occurred in the late morning, giving the guests some time afterward to go to the hotel to settle in before the reception and dinner. 

The hotel stood in a grove of large trees with a small stream meandering under the corner of the building reminding them of a style like Frank Loyd Wright.  As they walked from the parking lot toward the hotel, they saw some ducks and a big turtle sunning on a rock in the water. It was a wonderful bit of nature slipped into a weekend of obligation.  Susan felt relaxed and happy that she had come along.

The dinner was catered in a hall just thirty minutes from the hotel. A shuttle bus was provided so that, if they imbibed a bit too much, they would get safely back to their rooms. 

Of course, the food was delicious. A band played romantic tunes and the family and friends danced.  Gifts were presented to the newlyweds. A video was shown of the married couple’s early life. Susan laughed; they were only in their twenties with very little story to tell.  She and Mike had been married for three decades.  They could sure tell some stories about married life!

The eating, drinking and dancing went into the night. Finally, it was time to get on the shuttle bus back to the hotel.  Many of the party were beyond reason, floating in an alcoholic dream.  Susan’s one and only glass of wine had faded hours ago. She was looking forward to that nice soft bed with so many pillows. She and Mike climbed onto the shuttle bus and quickly took seats.  They watched as the bus filled then moved forward. Susan noted the time. It was far beyond midnight.

The bus window showed a night broken only occasionally by street lights. Inside the bus, Susan heard pieces of chit-chat, drunken laughs and giggles. The bright screens of cell phones popped up to show photos of children while old folks tried to remember names.  Susan slumped into her seat. She just wanted to get to the hotel soon.  She looked over at Mike. He was having a great time telling his best jokes and stories. She turned back and looked at the dark window glass again.

After nearly half an hour, she caught sight of something in the dark. What was it? A light was shining in the shape of a cross. The building behind it looked like the church where the wedding had taken place earlier that morning. Why would they be passing that church at this hour?  The bus continued to rumble on.  Story-tellers stood to tell one more tale to bubbling laughter.  Susan put her hand to her forehead and looked at Mike. He was quiet now and sinking deeper into his seat. She groaned. When would they get to the hotel? 

Finally, the bus stopped. Susan felt relieved.

Passengers cheered then began lining up in the isle. One stepped out and looked around. “What? What? I can’t believe this. We’re right back at the catering hall we left an hour ago!”

Several other male passengers stepped out to confirm the report. Yes, they were standing just a few feet from where they had climbed into the bus earlier.

“What the hell, man?” A tuxedoed passenger said to the driver. “How did you do that? Why? Can’t you find the hotel? It’s just thirty minutes straight up this road. How could you get lost?”

“That’s a one-way street, Bill. He had to go around. Remember, this is New Jersey.”

“My GPS broke down,” the driver admitted. “I made the best of it, but I didn’t know where I was.”

“Don’t you work in this area often?” asked another passenger.

“No, I’m from South Carolina and this is my first job!” the driver responded.

“Listen everyone: Get back on the bus! I have my GPS. I’ll tell the driver where to go!” This tuxedo-dressed passenger raised his arms and directed them to reboard.

Those who had departed let out a groan and got back into their previous seats. Loud mumbling voices, grumbling and screeches came up from the seats as the error was explained to those too tired to deboard. 

Then a word shot into the air. A word everyone knew you weren’t supposed to use anymore. A word that was full of poison and hate that had always been reserved for the people with dark skin. The passengers were putting the blame on the driver rather than on the failed technology. 

Susan was shocked. Everyone had been so cheerful and polite up to now. She looked around and saw passengers raising their fists. She could not let this turn into chaos.  She sat up and yelled, “That’s enough!” Her stern tone let them know, she meant it.

Silence filled the bus.

“Ok, let’s get going. My GPS says to turn here by this stone bridge,” the man in a tuxedo said, holding his device as he stood near the driver.  The driver turned the steering wheel. The passengers rode along in silence.

Finally, they arrived at the hotel. Susan got off the bus and felt the cool night air drifting from the water where they had walked earlier. She saw the lights of the hotel lobby.  Now she could get some sleep. What a day! Her sense of obligation was fulfilled, in more ways than one. She stopped and turned to her husband. “You just never know what you’ll be obligate to do to improve a challenging situation.” She reached for his hand and he smiled at her.