Page 86 of Only One Tour Bus

Callum and I trade off talking during the stops on the tour, and I love watching him work. He doesn’t give off his usual air of grumpy anger that you’re wasting his time when he’s in lecture mode. He’s engaged, maybe not smiling, but I get the suggestion of happiness emanating from him. Since I know how to interpret his face now.

Seeing Callum in front of the beautiful brick and painted buildings, the canals that weave lazily through them and the greenery that overflows from painted ledges and shutters while he’s talking about history, he’s never looked so attractive to me.

The tour is mercifully over before I can expire from lust (and the regular heat), ending at a glass-blowing demonstration where I hand the tired, overheated tourists over to a charming, well-dressed Italian man who has more than a little experience with tired, overheated tourists.

“Do you ever feel bad that we get a cut of the sales they make here?” Callum whispers in my ear.

“Feeling bad about all the capitalism happening?” I nod at the glass shop to the right of the glass blowing area, whispering over the oohs and ahhs of the group watching a man blow into some hot, melted glass.

“Kind of.”

“Eh. The demonstrations are cool and everything is air conditioned, aside from the glass-blowing forge area. Some people want these things when they travel and they’re authentic as they can be, made in the location they were invented. And they don’t have to go looking for it. But I’d feel worse if our pay wasn’t so terrible.”

The demonstration ends and the glass blower ushers the group into the shop. I step in before they get inside, using tour guide privilege to get to the AC first. “As of now you’re all on free time. Take your time in the shop and we’ll be around if you need suggestions of things to do this afternoon and tomorrow morning. We’ll leave for Florence tomorrow afternoon, around two p.m.”

I try to give as many helpful suggestions as I can for activities the group can do in their free time, but I have a feeling a lot of them are heading straight for a nap. I emphasize how many of the activities are air conditioned, and I think I swayed some of them. A few are interested in a gondola ride where they don’t have to walk anymore, so at least that’s something.

When the last duckling has waddled away from the nest, I turn to Callum. “Want to grab a drink? We deserve it after the day we’ve had.”

“I could also go for some pasta.”

“Yes. And let’s eat inside. None of this European outdoor seating, I need AC.”

“Agreed.” Callum takes my hand, entwining our fingers as we look for a restaurant that’s far enough from the main sites that we won’t run into anyone.

We eat too much food and drink too much wine, spending the rest of the afternoon walking it off, wandering through the maze-like streets of Venice.

“You know what I’ve never done, Callum?”

“Tell a tourist when they’re being obnoxious?”

“I would never!” How rude.

“Went a day without smiling?”

“Stop guessing; you’re depressing me. I’ve never been on a gondola ride.” I look at the canal next to us, with its steady supply of gondolas cutting slowly and gracefully through the water. “Seen plenty of them. Organized perhaps hundreds of them for others. But I’ve never done it myself.”

“How?”

“I never had anyone to go with. It’s one thing to go to a museum alone. But I haven’t been able to summon the courage to get in that little boat alone.” I look wistfully at them.

“I know where this is going. No.”

“Come on, Callum. It’ll be fun! So many people are doing it; they can’t all be wrong.”

“Yes, they can. A lot of Americans think trickle-down economics is a valid thing. They’re all wrong.”

“First of all, you are entirely correct about how wrong trickle-down economics is. Secondly, you are entirely wrong about gondolas; they are a good, popular, fun entertainment that never increased the wealth gap.”

“If your entire argument is going on a gondola is better than trickle-down economics, it doesn’t seem like the biggest endorsement.”

“Come on, Rain Cloud. I’ll pay and you’ll get to see Venice from a new perspective. It’ll be fun.”

“I’ll go. But I’m paying. And I won’t enjoy it.’”

“You can pay. But I formally object about the non-enjoyment clause.”

“Fine, I’ll enjoy it.” His face tells a different story, in Callum-speak. But his face is wrong.