Houston
Limousines and proms mix better than anything I can imagine. When I started driving, I had no idea that parents would actually hire out a stretch Lincoln limousine for some young kids to go to a High School prom. When I first heard that idea, I thought it was preposterous! The idea! Wasting all that money; flashing it around just because you have it.It was just another reason for me to not like rich people. It is easy to dislike someone when you don't know them, particularly when they have more than you'll ever have in your lifetime. That kind of dislike is another form of prejudice, and is, in reality - ENVY - in disguise!
I started to learn about the rich and famous when I began to drive a limousine. When you get behind the wheel and are working for someone, you cater to the slightest needs of that person, while often your most basic needs go unmet. The movie "Driving Miss Daisy presented the feeling I had very well, although it was done from a black vs white point of view. Sadly, when race is injected into the equasion, all other points usually become somehow marginalized.
Meeting rich, powerful, famous people became a way of life with me for awhile. Strange as it may seem, I began to see what makes them tick, and I believe I learned several lessons in the process.
Just as things are not always as they appear, likewise people are not not always as stereotypes portray them to be. Take, for instance, the prom-night limo riders. On my first prom job, I show up at a (surprise!) beautiful lakefront house, and did so on-time (15 minutes early!) My doorbell ring was not answered by some stuffed-shirt, snooty butler named Jeeves, but by the lady of the house, who warmly welcomed me in.
I was introduced to the young adults I was to drive. They made a cute couple, indeed. It was quite clear from the interaction between parents and offspring that there was a lot of love in that house. They just happened to have earned more money than most folks.
As I left, I pulled Mom & Dad aside and assured them: "I have children. The smartest thing you ever did was to sent them to the prom with ME! They will be well looked-after!"
And they WERE, and had a marvellous time. I couldn't control what they did inside the dance hall, etc., but when they were with me, there was no "foolishness." The kids behaved themselves and their parents were very proud of them when we got back, on time, if not under budget.
But what price is a loved one's safety? Or a parent's peace of mind?
Things don't always go as we would like them, however. One particular night, I was driving a minibus full of younsters to and from prom and around the city a little for good measure. There was a lot of noise and commotion on the bus, and I took it all in stride, They were having a blast.
Suddendly, and without warning, one of the young men stood up and screamed something unintelligible very loudly and then PUNCHED the side window, with a force so strong he actually shattered the plate glass!! It exploded into a thousand pieces, as it was designed to do to prevent serious injury, but only from flying glass. This young man had broken his hand in several places.
I stopped the bus and there was quite a bit of screaming and shouting. I commanded and got instant silence as I examined his lacerated hand. It was bleeding profusely.
After I carefully picked out a few stray pieces of glass, I got a clean handkerchief and some other cloths from the other kids, and instructed a boy closest to him to hold the cloth around the wounded hand. I then instructed everyone to hold on, there'd be a rough ride ahead. I radioed base and advised them of the situation, and gave the name and phone number of the injured boy's parents to the dispatcher so he could notify them.
Then I sat in the driver's seat and floored it! I headed straight to the closest emergency room, which was Hôtel-Dieu, where my children were born. We pulled into the place and got the young fellow seen immediately. Out dispatcher had also called ahead to let them know what type of injury to expect, so the ER staff was waiting for us.
We stayed at the scene. Nobody from the group even thought of leaving. We could hear the cries of pain and anguish coming from the hapless lad. The girls - and some of the guys, too, were in tears. His parents arrived within minutes, frantic. I explained what happened, but that wasn't as important as how their son was going to be.
As it turned out, someone in the group had smuggled aboard something that they shouldn't have, and this young student behaved irresponsibly and paid the price. It had an adverse, psychotic reaction.
The parents, not even for a moment, held me responsible, and actually commended me for my quick thinking and actions. I was very upset - and was more concerned that there'd be permanent damage to the hand. It really looked bad.
A few days later, I was in the back lot, cleaning a vehicle. I was interrupted by the very young man who had the fit on my bus. He was somber, and looked quite embarrassed. His hand was in a large bandage.
"I came to apologize to you for the other night, Sir." he said, in probably the most contrite tone of voice I had ever heard from anyone. "I behaved very foolishly!!"
"Yes, you did son, " I agreed, "But I hope you have learned a valuable lesson from this."
"Indeed I have, Sir."
"It takes a big man to admit his mistakes, though" I told him, and shook his hand - the other hand.
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