I drove away from the ritzy downtown hotel with my elderly guests and within about thirty seconds, I could fell movement from the back seat. There was some groaning and grunting as well as heavy breathing. Then there seemed to be sounds of exasperation and impatience but being the gentleman I am, I did not look back to see what might be happening.
I was driving a happy couple to their fifty-fifth wedding anniversary celebration at a posh hotel in downtown last night. On the way to their celebration, she nattered on about the weather, the news and other polite subjects. I asked, “What was your wedding day like?”
She was pleased to recall in her mellowed but obvious English accent: “It was 1961 when we were married in the Lake District of England and it was a beautiful day, sunny, warm and everything was perfect. Then we honeymooned in London. The hotel was grand, we went to the opera and a show and just wandered downtown. We ate delicious food and it was all very nice and we had a grand time.”
I picked them up after their supper a little after nine and they both slid, or shall I say manoeuvred themselves into the back seat of their sedan, a favoured position for lovers as I can recall from my youth. He is right handed so he took the passenger side and she took the seat behind me, the driver. He wore his grey suit with dapper red tie and she wore a beautiful, but modest, knee high dress with red jacket and accompanied jewellery. He is of medium height and slightly overweight complete with thin comb-over and she is a tall, slender, beautifully coiffed and sophisticated proper English lady.
As I drove I could hear their frantic but excited directions;
Peter, “Can you help me darling? Can you find it? Pull it out."
Jean; “Yes, here it is.”
Peter; “Lift it up, that’s it.”
Jean; “Can you point it over here dear.”
Peter groaning; “Twist it round?”
Jean impatiently; “Can you feel the slit?”
Peter excitedly; “Oh yes, here it is. Can you lift up a bit? Oh damn, I missed.” More grunting and thrashing around.
I drove on with a grin on my face. I can just imagine the frustration of it all in that tight backseat, and at their age.
Jean: “Come on darling, try again.”
Peter; “Lift up and twist it round. Pull it sideways, that’s it, I can feel it, aahhh, there it is if I can just push a little harder. I can almost reach it now.” More grunting and heavy breathing and the car is shaking.
Suddenly there is the sound of a “click” and a sigh of relief. “There it is, we managed it. We got the seat belt attached.”
I smiled with relief as I was about to pullover to give them a hand.
What were you thinking?