#26: NORTHWARD HO!

(BETSY has fallen asleep on a makeshift bench on a dirt road just outside of Philadelphia. She clutches two small suitcases and is sleeping soundly. An OFFICER approaches her.)

OFFICER: Yet another one. Miss, MISS. Wake up.
BETSY: (in her sleep) Let me see... they all smell so good...
OFFICER: Wake up, Miss.
BETSY: (in her sleep) I'll have the strudel this time...
OFFICER: Miss, you need to wake up -

(The OFFICER goes to shake her awake. She snaps to life just before he makes contact.)

BETSY: Wha, who, oh!
OFFICER: You were asleep miss. On this bench.
BETSY: So I was. Not anymore. Thank you for your help officer.
OFFICER: My my my, how long were you out for? You were dreaming deep about pasteries or something.
BETSY: I, I don't know. Well, what time is it now?
OFFICER: Let me see. It was one p.m. when I got to McCarthy's. I spent awhile there because it's Saturday and we always get slippy on Saturdays. That puts it at half past five p.m. when I left McCarthy's. And that was a solid two hours ago.
BETSY: Half past five - two hours ago?!?
OFFICER: Probably puts it at about seven p.m. No, seven thirty p.m. right now. Something like that. Feels right to me. Sun's setting.
BETSY: I've been stood up!
OFFICER: Now who would stand such a pretty sight up?
BETSY: My stupid brother.
OFFICER: Oh! (Beat.) Oh I see. Well, to each his own. Or her own as the case may be. How long have you two been open about this?
BETSY: Open about - Gross! He's my brother
OFFICER: I see this all the time. No need to be ashamed. He'll come to his senses and take you back.
BETSY: (Spelling it out clearly.) I was waiting on this bench for my brother and his wife to pick me up. We are spending the week in New York.
OFFICER: Oh! (Beat.) Oh I see. Well, that's now a new one, but pretty darn exciting. Good for you three to have found one another.
BETSY: Look, the last time I checked it wasn't illegal to be sitting on a bench, so if you'll excuse me, I am going to sit some more until they show up.
OFFICER: About that. It actually is illegal now. This is a public road. You've been inactive. So that's loitering. It's the newest law as of about half past three yesterday.
BETSY: Loitering?
OFFICER: Loitering. Fact: people standing still get into trouble. We're done with trouble in this city.
BETSY: For your information, I'm very well connected here. I'm going to have a few words about this "law" when I'm back from New York.
OFFICER: By all means, feel free to. But in the meantime, I'm under strict orders to take all necessary action to deal with any loiterers.
BETSY: Is waiting for an overdue carriage a crime?
OFFICER: Sounds like a question a loiterer would ask, doesn't it?
BETSY: What? Look, I may be at the wrong bench, I will try the one further down the road in case they're waiting there.
OFFICER: Two counts of loitering if you do that. We'll be talking jail time.
BETSY: If you persist with this I will see to it that I write a series of strong letters to the right people that will leave you without job by month's end. We don't want that now, now do we?
OFFICER: No we don't. (He takes out a large book and a pen with ink. He writes.) One count of loitering. One count of plotting to loiter. And one count of threatening an officer. Three counts at seven thirty p.m. Perhaps seven twenty-five.
BETSY: Did Hamilton put you up to this?
OFFICER: We are required to keep a written record for when it goes to trial.
BETSY: While you're at it, don't forget about the bank I robbed last Tuesday, or the church I lit ablaze.
OFFICER: (He is writing furiously.) How do you spell ablaze?

(We hear the sounds of a horse-driven carriage rapidly approaching from offstage. BETSY collects her belongings and looks with great anticipation in the direction of the noise.)

OFFICER: So we're looking at five separate charges here. Two of which are accompanied by documented confessions. Please sign here.
BETSY: I'll be in New York buying Dutch shoes and eating fine foods. Feel free to send the state militia after me.

(The carriage enters and stops. BETSY jumps inside. It quickly exits. A cloud of hoof-induced dirt hangs in the air.)

OFFICER: (writing in his book) Charge number six. Fleeing the scene of a crime. (He closes the book and packs up.) She'll soon be America's most wanted. (Beat.) If only I knew her name....

BLACKOUT