Page 90 of Only One Tour Bus

“No. And their parents have now progressed to full-on frantic.”

We were settling in for a nice night together after dinner, without the tourists, when Asha got the call from some very nervous parents, Jennifer and Peter, who didn’t know where their teen was. Playing a hunch, we called Louis and Brian, who confirmed that Jack was out taking a walk. Allegedly alone.

“Where can they be?” I ask, running my hand through my hair. Florence is a small city, but it’s never felt this big before. Maybe I never had reason to curse the many dark, twisting alleys and streets before. And the historic architecture has never felt so…similar. Every turn I take, there are beautiful medieval buildings that I can’t tell if we’ve already seen on this search.

“The drinking age is firmly eighteen, but frankly⁠—”

I sigh. “I know. I was drinking in this city at sixteen. They don’t have the most strict enforcement.”

“Which would be fine except that these teens are our responsibility!”

“I left some texts. Maybe they’re just not answering calls. I wouldn’t answer an unknown number either, honestly, so I can’t blame them for that.”

“Fucking romantic city. Fucking romantic pasta that you can Lady and the Tramp with. Fucking delicious wine. Fucking gelato you can share romantically. Fucking romantic birthplace of the fucking renaissance.”

“I don’t know that Florence has been yelled at for any of those things before.” Or that I’ve heard this many curse words from her.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Asha yells at me, marching across cobblestones toward the city center with an intensity she usually reserves for getting to museum gift shops.

And today had been going so well, too. After our…time in the bus, everyone was punctual, we only needed one bathroom/refueling stop, and then hotel check-in and dinner went smoothly as well. We had a sociable one drink with the group at a bar next to the restaurant, and then we broke away to enjoy some private time in the hotel. In my room this time, because I have a better view overlooking the Duomo.

But then, before we could enjoy that alone time, we got the call from Jennifer, with Peter yelling at us from somewhere in their room. As if it’s out fault they can’t find their teenage daughter.

All I can says is, I’m glad Asha received that call, because I would have asked what they wanted me to do about it, when they can’t even control their own progeny. Who they’re sharing a room with.

“Are we going to march into every club and bar in Florence until we find Virginia?”

“Yes. Or until they all close. Or until Virginia calls us back. Or until her parents say she’s home. And we might as well keep an eye out for Jack, too. Because I think I terrified his parents with my call.”

“The walking tour tomorrow is gonna be fun after a long night of clubbing. Something I haven’t done since my youth.”

“And you don’t even get to enjoy the club, but it’ll still suck tomorrow. So it’s worse than your youth.”

We go in and out of a few bars and one club, with no luck. We even asked bartenders if they had seen the wee ones (after getting photos texted from their parents), but we just got strange looks for asking after children we’re not related to. “I don’t think this is the most effective use of our time.”

“Oh, there’s almost no chance this is going to work. But we can’t do nothing. And I don’t want to be in the room with the anxious parents either. So this is the best option.”

“They’re probably fine. Teenagers have been sneaking out to bars since forever.”

“I know. But until we know for sure, it’s our problem.”

We walk into a few more establishments before taking a break on the steps of the Duomo. To “check the phones,” if anyone asks. Our phones are out, for honesty.

“This is the part of the job I absolutely hate. Anything else I can deal with, but this is not the craic,” I say, phone screen facing the ground as I give up pretending this is anything other than a break.

“The teenage hormones?”

“Well, partly.”

“Right? They’re not as entertaining in real life as it is when I’m rewatching To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before.”

“I don’t know how anyone can enjoy teen movies and shows.”

Asha gasps. “Because they’re very entertaining. They’re literally written that way.”

Okay, I can tell this is one of those things she cares deeply about that I will never understand. So I don’t try to, and I go back to my original point in the conversation. “Mostly, I hate being responsible for someone else’s drama and safety while having no control over their movements. And as much as I have to learn about being a better tour leader, I don’t think my feelings on that will ever change.”

“Having twenty to thirty adult children to look out for is definitely the hardest part of the job.”