Anyone who has ever organized anything involving a large number of disparate people knows, as do most of those disparate people, that things can go wrong, things that can be handled calmly without panic so long as people stand back and give the organizer room and a chance.

For the last four years a gentleman in New Bedford has voluntarily taken on the task of organizing a tour bus for and collecting the money from those who want to attend the annual Carnival Parade in Provincetown.

Although this is something he does for no compensation, having to settle, instead, for the headaches, that does not prevent a vocal minority from voicing their displeasure at the slightest inconvenience, anticipated or surprising, and are more than quick to explain the alternate approaches they would have implemented had they been in charge, something they do not volunteer for.

Organizing one bus is bad enough, but things get compounded when enough people show interest in the trip and apply enough pressure to make a second bus necessary. The good guy took on extra work so no one would be disappointed.

But the more people involved, the more the increase in those whose self assigned task it is to critique.

Because of the increased number of people and the increased number of parking spaces in which to leave cars for the day, the gathering place was moved to the parking lot of a closed supermarket across from the usual area. While not needing anyone’s opinion, as if a debate was needed, the organizer had to keep explaining the change, a situation compounded by someone connected to that closed store’s parking lot which was shared by a number of closed stores, asking us all to gather elsewhere for insurance reasons. This necessitated having people move their cars to a third location that was, to some apparently, a hugely inconvenient and totally unfair two minutes away by car.

This added the additional duty of redirecting those newly arrived and about to, and contacting the bus company hopefully in time to have it divert the drivers to the new location. None of this could be avoided, and voluntary assessments and suggestions were just not necessary nor needed. But the whining commenced.

And as far as those who had pestered the organizer to increase the number of seats, necessitating the second bus, some had decided at the last minute that they would not be going and were offended that the notification of no refunds that was printed clearly on the ticket was going to be held to.

Threats to present this to the public on social media would speak louder about them than the organizer, but he still had to stoically endure the threats.

When the first bus arrived it was what was expected. It was a good sized coach with air conditioning and all the necessary perks of a tour bus. Those with one color tickets were directed to board while those with the other color tickets were told to wait for the second bus. Both buses were to leave at the same time and arrive at the same place, so what bus you got on made no real difference other than for organizing purposes.

As if to punish the organizer for some past serious sin, as the second bus arrived its differences with the first bus were clear as it was a dull grey as opposed gleaming white, the side engine access door was swinging open, and within moments of its arrival the engine died and along with it the air conditioning on one of the summer’s hottest days.

From some reactions, you would have thought the organizer should have had some control over all that, or at the least should have been able to perform some form of instant maintenance or replacement.

The majority just got on the bus, and were thankful that all problems were swiftly addressed.

The expectation was for a restful ride and not having to deal with the tourist traffic that can make a Trip to Provincetown a piece of hell if you drove on a summer day on Cape Cod especially when there was a special event.

There was a guy on the bus who subscribed to the belief that the louder he got, the funnier he became. I can attest his belief was faulty as the louder he got, the louder he became. He repeatedly declared that he loved to get people to laugh, a false declaration because, if he truly believed that, he would have changed his routine and would have let others talk. His preferred schtick was to yell out, between loudly singing failing parodies of popular songs, the sexual innuendos he found in the simplest comments of others, but as there was usually no such innuendos and his attempts at humor failed, he was quick to loudly point out how dour people were while also pointing out how funny he was as he repeated the joke that failed in the first telling, and continued to do in the re-telling regardless of the increased volume that accompanied the repetition.

He did this from the moment the bus began moving to when it arrived, and assured us, his assumed receptive audience, that he fully intended to regale us in this way on the ride home.

Sleeping through the trip was impossible as was conversation.

Fortunately the unrelenting sun,  the heat of the day, and his over done celebratory imbibing prevented this from coming to fruition.

Had I been in the car behind the bus, I am not sure I would have handled it well when after having been crawling through slow, bumper to bumper traffic for at least an hour, I was to find out the reason I sat still behind the bus for a number of minutes was because the bus driver had applied the air brakes so he could run to the back of the bus to relieve himself in the onboard restroom while the traffic in front of the bus was moving.
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As bad as this was, a woman on the bus who had been attempting to promote and join in with the loud guy by matching his loudness thought it was important that she express her objection to the bus driver’s bathroom break by confronting him on his return trip to his seat blocking his progress until she had had her say.

There were some on the bus who assumed the organizer had some control over this whole situation and held him responsible for it.

Once we arrived everyone seemed happy, and all the criticism, and I should say whatever negative effect the whining might have had on the poor organizer was of no concern as people spread out to whatever activities they had planned, but not before we were reminded to be back on the buses by 9:00 p.m.

Everyone was, indeed, back on the buses at the appointed time, but to insure we all were there, the organizer did a head check and had the drivers wait just a few minutes to make sure we were all onboard.

And, yep, people pointed out that we had been told 9:00 p.m., yet the buses did not start to move immediately on the dot of 9.

This is what I was thinking:

Every Friday I drive from New Bedford to Yarmouthport where between the second week in April to the last weekend in December I am a docent at the Edward Gorey House Museum for the day having started doing that when I lived on Cape Cod just down the road in South Dennis. I enjoy this as it gets me out of town, I get to meet people from all over the world, and I also get to visit with Cape Cod friends occasionally.

It is a 104 mile round trip from the Joe Quigley abode to the Gorey House which in the off season is uneventful, but during tourist season involves bumper to bumper traffic to get across the canal and continued bumper to bumper traffic once on the Cape caused by those who do not realize that not everyone there is on vacation and some do have to get somewhere.

From Yarmouthport to Provincetown it is an additional 90 mile round trip, so with a total round trip of 194 miles with my car getting on average of 30 miles per gallon, and with gas costing $2.89 per gallon, gas alone would have cost $20 at a minimum, and to that I would have to have added another $40 at a minimum for parking after having had to deal with over 150 miles of traffic from Wareham to Provincetown and back if I had driven myself, so only having had to pay $25 for someone else to drive and actively deal with the traffic, while I relaxed and shared in the Jell-O shots made by people who have done so since this excursion was begun, and being able to spend the close to $40 savings on drinks, I am more than grateful that David does what he does each year regardless what little bumps crop up.

I think more people need to remember this and be grateful for the arrangements made and be patiently forgiving when there is a glitch that experience shows will be handled.

So, in this case, thank you, David, for the task you took on.

There are many people I know who have faced what you did and handled it as well. You are in good company.

And I know your experience is a familiar one to anyone who takes on such a task.

For those for whom you made the arrangements, next year follow directions, sit down, look out the window, and allow him to enjoy his share of jell-o shots and those nice Portuguese pastries that John made and passed around.