notes from the road

THERE IS NO ESCAPING ME!!!!!!!!!

I thought about my friend today who has a ‘don’t run for the bus, because you will look pathetic if you miss it’ policy. I thought about it as I was running for a bus. For a long time I have been quite against this policy, and what happened today has only hardened my resolve against it.
gg
I finished my French lesson at 8 o’clock and my bus I know leaves at 8:17, and it is about a 25 minute walk away, so naturally I bring out the run – despite wearing my fancy work clothes. At 8:10 I am within 100 m of the bus stop so I slow down to a walk (no need to draw attention to my athletic strides needlessly). But as I get closer to the bus station I see that there isn’t any number 325 waiting for me!  Wha? Am I too late?
jj
Then I see it, bending itself around a corner as it leaves the bus depot and enters the traffic. I could make a run for it now, but I know that the bus drivers don’t let you in on the road. I’ll have to wait another 40 minutes to take the train, or, or there is a slight chance, I slight glimmer of a possibility that if I run the back streets I will be able to beat the bus to the next stop.
jj
So with my bag slapping at my back, and shirt flapping in the wind I sprint through the shopping area, knocking over old ladies and sending papers flying. Then, just as I round a corner I see two glaziers carrying a pane of glass between them, they go one way then the other, but it’s  too late – I crash right on through. Unperterbed I keep plugging away with only the wind in my hair and the sound of my leather shoes slapping on the pavement to keep my company.
hh
As I cross an intersection cars scream to a holt and I think there may have been an eleven car pile up, but I am too fast to really notice. My path crosses the road the bus takes, and I pass just seconds after it does, but I take the short cut through the park and arrive at the bus stop just before it has time to pull away.
hh
Breathing heavily I clamber onto the stuffy bus and the sweat drips down my forehead as I find a seat. Each drop is like a gold medal – I made it!
hh
Note: Story may have been exaggerated slightly for effect, but it is remarkably close to real life.
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