A bee is born...School Bus Karaoke

I'd finally done it. Despite having no musical ability WHATSOEVER...despite having been kicked out of, not one but, TWO bands, I FINALLY broke through the male-dominated glass ceiling that is: School Bus Karaoke. "Amy," School Bus Karaoke co-star (and my arch-nemesis) Tyler said, sighing in exasperation, "there can't be a glass ceiling seeing that there's only been two episodes." "Tell that to Gloria Steinbeck," I snapped. "You mean Gloria Steinem," he corrected as he wondered if I were the right woman to bust through this particular bus barrier. But it was too late anyway...I had already proclaimed myself the Rosa Parks of my time. After our ground-breaking performance, Tyler vowed to devote all his energies to reviewing Women's Rights history with me. "I don't review history," I informed him, "I make history." "Yeah, I see that," he commented dryly.

"So what do I need to do?" I asked casually, inspecting my glossy nails for nicks after Tyler BEGGED me to join the School Bus Karaoke cast.  "Choose a familiar song and re-write the lyrics to reflect a school-based message," he explained, "and create a loose script around it." I yawned. "I'll see what I can do," I shrugged dismissively, "I'll have my people call your people." He thanked me and left the room. By the time he'd reached his own classroom door, I'd had the song written and the script color-coded and printed in size 22 font.

The days of December dragged by as I awaited the day of shooting. My director, Billy, made searing script changes throughout the month as we passed one another in the hall. "Too long!" he proclaimed one day. "Too explicit!" he proclaimed another day..."gratuitous humor has no place here. Save the comedy for the clowns. Educators communicate using elevated wit and whimsy." I admit that my confidence was shaken. My entire lyric foundation was based upon the rhyming combination of scarf and barf. To accommodate his wishes, I switched over to sneeze and freeze but it just didn't have the same pizzazz.

Winter break was fast-approaching with no news of a shoot date. Maybe I wasn't destined for stardom after-all. But then it happened. Out of nowhere. It was a Monday. I remember because I had Zumba and I couldn't understand for the life of me, why ANYONE would schedule Zumba on a MONDAY.  "Filming will begin promptly at 2:40," my director informed me at one o'clock, "I intend to get this in one take."  I nodded. No problem.

Problem.

Where was the script? Where were my lyrics?

Whew! They arrived by email. Problem solved.

Problem NOT solved.

Where were my original edge-y lyrics? My sharp, soul-slicing syllables? Billy had whittled down my words from punch to powder-puff. Oh my goodness. I would be using the word mittens. He might as well have slapped wings on me and had me sprinkle glitter all over the set. Fortunately, I had a no glitter clause included in my contract alongside a daily dose of Pepsi and yellow marshmallow peep rabbits.

I arrived, excited and early, at 2:30. Dressed in my bee costume, I waited in the office and realized that there's no humiliation like Hollywood humiliation as the school secretaries pointed out how bee-u-tiful I was to everyone who stopped by.  My director showed up twenty minutes later and my other co-star, Santa himself, walked in the door shortly after. We would not see, Tyler, the diva, for another thirty minutes. As we watched the minutes of our lives tick by as we waited for Tyler, the two men gently explained how, soon, my world would irrevocably change as a result of School Bus Karaoke. Santa nodded solemnly, "From this day forward," he told me, "you will belong to the people." Wow.

The Queen T finally showed up, jumped on the bus, jumped back OFF the bus before sheepishly saying, "Take two," before getting on the bus again. This was it. The bus was coming towards me. My palms were sweating in my giant cartoon bee hands. Billy had given me some last minute words of wisdom...What were they? What were they? The bus inched closer and my stomach clenched. My entire future in acting hinged upon the sage words from this seasoned star. The bus pulled up and I took a shallow breath, remembering. Remembering words that would serve me well the remainder of my days. Words that I will pass along to my children and my children's children. "Amy," he'd said, "Don't get on the bus until I open the doors." So profound. Deep...layered...leveled. Buddha couldn't have said it better himself. And from such auspicious words, full of wit and whimsy, a bee boarded a bus.