If you didn't go over to Doghouse Riley today, you should:
The medievals had a tremendous capacity for imagination and enchantment, and while nobody but the deepest romantic would want to go back to their way of thinking (let alone their way of life), it’s a tonic to visit from time to time.
Y'know, somehow, it's always the people who object to paying the fare who want to ride farthest.
Not to mention the fact that this is less a bus from Point A to Point B than an imaginary unicorn-guided monorail circling some mental Disneyland. Brooks, like Lewis, doesn't see himself as a pox-ridden peasant sitting down to his plate of leftover umbles warmed on the manure fire, fearful about today's solar eclipse (and tomorrow's sixteen hours in the fields); they're the fat monks secure in the knowledge that Ptolemy explained it all. Except they have air conditioning.