Damn, that could have been so much worse.
After a couple sleepless nights, I woke up this morning with a certain pep to my step. Showered, caffeinated and ready to face the day, I waltzed across the street to my Queen Anne bus stop an hour earlier than usual. Damn, boy. Maybe my perceptions were clouded by the hoorahs running through my head, but my bus stop companions—some familiar, some not—also seemed primed for the challenges that lay before them.
We were still reaching for our Orca cards when our bus stopped a few meters down the road. What followed happened in a matter of seconds. One transit rider spoke with the driver and returned with the message that the vehicle was out of commission.
Suddenly, gasps. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bus driver trip over on the sidewalk. I also saw a driverless bus rolling down a steep hill. The bus driver hopped, wobbled and sprinted toward the massive contraption of rubber and metal and glass that was headed for certain disaster. (Apparently, he hadn't put it in park.) As the driver hopped back into his machine, it began to plow into my car, pushing it onto the sidewalk and into the bushes.
And then everything came to a halt. The driver hit the brakes in time, preventing catastrophe. Nobody was hurt.
The bus driver and I took a couple pictures. We exchanged information. He asked me, "Are you going to be late for work?" I responded in the affirmative, moved my car back onto the road and caught the next bus downtown.
It could've been so much worse.