Page 16 of Only One Tour Bus

Or maybe not so subtle, after all. Something to work on. “Just coming over to say hi.” I sneak a look down and see a picture of the castle on his screen, with text below it. Nailed it; he was definitely studying. “I was surprised you thought to offer them a Boots trip. It’s considerate.”

He looks at the store entrance. “Eh. I don’t need them complaining all day. And it would be a shame if they were in so much self-inflicted pain that they couldn’t learn about Edinburgh Castle.”

Yeah. That sounds right. “It would be a shame.” I bump his shoulder with mine. “You should probably talk to the group.”

I know I’m a broken record at this point, but isn’t that what I’m supposed to be doing for him? Helping him refine some of his interpersonal skills.

“I have to review my speech so I don’t miss any important information.” He shakes his phone at me.

“I’m sure you will give them more information than they ever thought they would need.” Or want. But I’m too nice to say that bit of honesty-bordering-on-cruelty out loud. “But they want some human interaction as well. To feel like they made a friend.”

“I let them get medicine for their bad decisions, delaying us and the responsible tourists from starting our day. They should get it on their own time. But I still made the offer.”

“And that was good, except the part where you silently resent them for it. It’s the nature of these tours,” I say. “People need toilet breaks and they need water and jackets and they need ice cream, too. Sometimes they need medicine, for self-inflicted reasons or not.”

The people at Boots come back, cutting off our debate. We start the walk to the castle from our hotel, adopting a slow pace so people can take photos on the way. They saw the sights yesterday, but it’s earlier today, which means everything is less crowded. Making more stunning vacation photos.

It’s almost worth getting up early for.

“It would be fine if all these pictures were so they could remember what they’re learning. But they only want the likes on social media,” Callum whispers in my ear, catching me in between taking group photos.

“People have been sharing their vacation photos with friends since forever. At least this way friends can like and scroll on, without being trapped at a dinner where they have to watch a slideshow for hours on end.”

We get to the entrance of the castle, with all our original group and no extras. A few people always try to join when they see a big group all listening to one person. If there’s multiple groups, I always feel a bit proud that they choose me to freeload off. They usually don’t stay with us for too long, so it’s not a big deal.

Except the one time someone tried to get on the bus with us. That was awkward.

Callum starts the tour of the castle back in the Iron Age, as there was habitation on this dormant volcano since then. He goes through its life as a royal residence and military barracks, cataloguing its twenty-six sieges, making it the most attacked site in the United Kingdom.

He really is good at this part of the job. He’s so knowledgeable that I actually learn a thing or two, and I’ve been to this site over fifty times. Not only does he know his facts, he has a way of weaving in his own analysis that is always so smart. And he’s passionate about it, in his Callum way. Listening to him is captivating. The more history-minded tourists (and I) are hanging on to his lecture.

But not everyone is a fan of history like us, and I see some wandering eyes. So I interject when I can with more Page Six-worthy stories, including ghosts, witchcraft accusations, a secret spy hole, and the resident elephant. After all, people need levity, too.

“How did they get an elephant here?” James asks.

“Colonialism. And a really big boat, I would imagine,” I say.

Callum is less than excited about my interruptions, just like he was when I interrupted yesterday. But he keeps a professional demeanor through the tour. Or what passes as professional for him, which is a lot of glowering at me from across the group of eager tourists. But he should know that the more he glares, the more used to it I get, and the less impact it has.

I don’t think he would appreciate the reminder.

The group perks up over the walking tour, especially when I stop them for the best picture-taking places, both of the castle grounds and the city below. The first time I stop, Callum stands behind me while I have about ten cameras and phones thrust at me as the group rushes to assume the position for taking photos.

“This is wasting time; they don’t need five different versions of the same photo with a slightly different group and different poses. We have a lot of ground to cover here at this site. They should take one photo and keep it moving,” Callum whispers from behind me. Close enough that I can feel his breath on me. The words should make me mad, but his closeness has goose bumps breaking out on the nape of my neck. For the most inappropriate man. What gives?

“They don’t need to know everything about the castle. They do need to have a few photos, and to be in the photos, so they can remember not only what they saw, but how happy they were when they saw it. And the new friends they’re making.”

And new life partners, I mentally cross my fingers in hope, still hoping someone will make me a bridesmaid at their wedding.

I patiently take all the photos they want, in all the permutations they want, while Callum gets increasingly more impatient behind me. I refuse to look at him, and he doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the seething irritation behind me.

I knew the first day went too well. Now it’s the second day and real character is being revealed—with Callum, who is less patient with me, but also the tourists when they were not happy about the early morning, despite them paying for this exact experience.

I really enjoy this job, but even jobs that are wonderful have their annoying bits. But then I look at the smiling faces through the phone screens and know I can deal with the small annoyances.

A few months from now they’ll be back at home, and maybe after a hard day at work or school, maybe after some personal issues come up, they can look at this photo on their desk, or popping up as a photo memory on their phone, and I hope they smile, feeling better remembering a good moment on vacation. Or maybe it’ll be a magnet on a fridge or a souvenir pen on their desk that they see, and they’ll remember their fun times.

“We’re done now.” I turn to smile at the storm cloud behind me after I hand the last camera back.