It was only a weekend seminar and there was no way all of this and us were going to fit in the van for the drive down.
Boxes, bags, training gear.
Sticks, swords, and some presents.
Where was it all going to go?
My teacher was confident it was all going to fit, and he was correct, somehow it did.
I was in the back of the van sitting with the Master, a wall of boxes and backs dividing us and stacked around us to the point that all I could see was a small sliver of light out my window.
Loaded up we set off for the seminar.
We made good time over the bridge and things picked up once we hit the turnpike.
By late morning I was getting hungry and knowing the personality of my teacher I knew we wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon so I brought my own snacks with me.
A small bag of pretzels and chips stashed in my jacket pockets, and juice box if I got thirsty.
Opening the pretzels and preparing to enjoy them, the boxes stacked next to me started to shift as an open hand pushed through them stopping at my bag of pretzels.
Shaking a few out of the bag the hand took them and retracted.
The conversation at the front of the van was a dialog between my teacher and the senior students talking about who would be there, who to look out for, and who to watch at the seminar.
A reminder that the Master would also be teaching there, and to be mindful of the relationship as this was not our dojo.
With the sunlight shifting through the window I knew we were getting off the turnpike for a pit stop and to get some gas before the final stretch.
When the vans stopped my teachers, instructions were specific.
He was going to pay for the gas, and the senior students were getting out to grab some snacks and would be back in a few.
I was to stay in the van with the Master and keep an eye out on things.
All was quiet until I heard the back door of the van quietly open and close.
Master?
Master!
By the time I shifted the box wall, moved the packed weapons, and climbed over my bag the Master was gone.
I quickly scanned the parking lot and he wasn’t there.
I spotted my teacher paying for the gas with the senior students and the Master wasn’t with them.
That only left the rest stop.
The food court was empty.
He wasn’t in the arcade.
I found him in the gift shop looking at t-shirts.
Master, we have to get back to the van before my teacher notices we are gone.
The Master was in no hurry.
I helped him pick out a t-shirt and a candy bar.
Whatever he wanted, we just had to get back to the van.
I had to get back.
When we got back to the gas pump the can was gone.
Maybe my teacher was circling the parking lot looking for us?
That was when the master laughed and pointed out that the can was getting back on the turnpike.
I left my phone in my jacket, which was in the van.
It must have been about fifteen minutes before they all noticed we were missing, and another fifteen to circle back around as the Master and I waited, sitting on the curb next to the exit.
When I saw the van, my eyes locked with my teacher, and I could tell he wasn’t happy.
I must have said something to myself as the Master told me not to worry.
He told me that eventually when you become a Master you suddenly realize that you have more people telling you what to do, and where you have to be.
When the car pulled up and my teacher got out, I could tell he was pissed at me.
The Master laughed at my teacher being so serious and how since nobody asked him if he wanted a candy bar when we stopped, he had to go get it himself.
Next Story: The Master Who Stopped Coming
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