Have I Told You How Much I Love You?

I was on the bus ride home from the city this evening. I had spent the night at a friend's house last night and hung out with her all today.
Tired and content, I sat leaning against the window in the back of the bus.
All of the sudden, the bus hit a bump.
We drove off the road.
Down the isle, through the front windshield, I saw a tall, thick streetlamp pole. The bus quickly turned to the left. The right front corner of the bus hit this pole.
We almost tipped over.
Nobody made a sound, only the bus as it boomed and shook.

There were two other boys on the bus holding on for dear life, like me, as the bus driver struggled for control and found the road again.
With big eyes, the boys and I looked at each other, and finally I go, "Is the driver okay?" -worried that he might be having a heart attack. We stared at the front of the bus. From the back, it was hard to tell if the driver was having trouble with the bus itself or having trouble with himself, like trying to stay conscious.

One of the boys hurried to the front to check.

Their conversation was not long. He came back to us with a petrified look. He couldn't find the words right away. Maybe he couldn't decide what language to report in, maybe he was in disbelief. Probably both.

He smelled alcohol from the driver's breath.

The three of us sat together and the two boys made phone calls, one if which to the police. I watched the driver and held on. My stop was soon.
The boys asked me if I could stay on, to be another witness.

So, we passed my stop...

(nervous as hell)

and ten to fifteen minutes (of swallowing hard, our knuckles turning whiter with every turn of the steering wheel) later, the police came. Two policemen asked the driver off the bus and examined him. Two other policemen examined the cracked windshield, scratched front bumper, and the broken hinge of the door.
We told the police what happened and so on.
Then one of the boys pointed out that another bus coming is going back towards my stop. I felt the boys had it covered, so I ran across the street and got on that bus.
When I got on, I took a look at the driver. He seemed sober, but then again, I guess you never know. I got home safe like usual, and that was that.



I'm not sure what the real problem really was. The other bus came before the mystery was solved or translated to me. The night was cold, and I just wanted to get home.





I missed Thanksgiving this year.



        

 I didn't get to tell everyone I love how Thankful I am for them. And I didn't get a pumpkin pie either. I found this comforting picture instead, and went with my New Yorker friend to a nice restaurant and talked about how lucky we have it back home.

I love you, my dear family and friends. Thank you.

And I'll see you soon.