I thought I was doing the right thing.

I had crowned myself “Queen of the School Field Trips.”

It wasn’t an easy title to earn, there were about five of us in the running, all worthy candidates, always on the back of the bus telling kids to keep bums in seats and ipods at least below the height of the cushion backs so they wouldn’t be caught. All we asked in exchange was a piece of fruity gum and control of the window.

We were at the museum feigning interest in mineral formations and at the conservation authority hoisting kids high above our shoulders to see if there were any blue eggs in the bird’s nests. Just to be clear, the only child I was hoisting was my own. Hoisting, lifting or physical contact with anyone else’s child disqualifies you from the competition.

Yesterday, I was sure my presence on this, the seventy-nine-hundredth consecutive volunteer outing would put me in the field trip hall of fame.

Except I wasn’t supposed to be there.

I woke up, showered and ate my oatmeal like any other day.

I made three lunches as opposed to two, found my ten year old mascara, still scrapably dry and stood in my closet asking myself, “If I were a teacher, what would I wear?”

This wasn’t like any other day. This was a field trip day.

When I got to the school, the kids were waiting outside to board the field trip bus, an arrangement I knew like the back of my soon-to-be-stamped-hand.

I moved to the back to keep my eye on things and awaited my group assignment.

When I heard, Janet’s group, then Sarah’s group, then Linda’s, my mascara started to clump. Anyone else’s would have run but mine was far too dry.

I raised my hand and asked the teacher in charge who I would be taking care of for the day and she said, “Oh, you are not on my list today.”

It occurred to me I hadn’t even said I was coming and later learned I hadn’t paid the $22 to accompany the kids in the first place.

Twenty-two dollars? No wonder I didn’t volunteer.

So now I’m a stowaway with a couple of options.

A)     I dive off of the now moving bus, still in the school parking lot and enjoy a free day while Chloe is with a babysitter after I bandage my scabs from rolling out of a moving vehicle or

B)      I stay on the bus, look out the window and pretend I couldn’t hear anything I was just told and ride along anyway.

Secret option C) I could tell some kids they are in my group and use their lunch money to pay my way.

None of this made any sense until I read yesterday’s post.

I am a Hobo.