I missed the bus once. I left the house at the right time (which is unusual), but I ran into a man who wanted to chat with me. By the time I’d escaped the conversation, I had to jog as fast as my sleepy legs would carry me.
As I approached the bus stop, I caught a glimpse of my bus driving away. I ran out into the street after it. I stood in the street and waved my arms to get the bus driver’s attention, should he happen to look in his rear-view mirror. But no such luck. I groaned in despair and let my arms flop to my sides.
A car stopped behind me and I stepped out of the way. But it didn’t move on; the driver rolled down his window and motioned for me to get in. Without a word or a thought, I ran to the passenger door and jumped in.
The chase was on!
We took off after the bus. There were several cars between us and the bus, and my new friend quickly passed each one. The engine roared, the wind whipped past, and my silent friend clearly had nerves of steel. Soon, it was only us and the bus. He honked and flashed his lights, but the bus didn’t stop. He pulled along-side and continued honking his horn. I could see passengers staring at us through the bus windows, but the bus still did not stop.
We reached a series of speed bumps, and we slowed nearly to a stop. Forgetting to utter even a single word of thanks to my friend, I leapt from the vehicle, sprinted to the bus, threw open the door and jumped inside. The driver and all the passengers stared at me wide-eyed. For some reason, I said “Woohoo!” before taking my seat.
And I beat myself up for the rest of the day because I forgot to thank that nice man.