the last bus stop
As I waited at the bus stop this afternoon, I looked at the sky and was awed by how dark the clouds were. At the same time, I wondered how long they would hold out. As it turns out, they didn’t hold out long enough for me to get home. In fact, they barely held out long enough for me to get on the bus. During the 45 minute bus ride, I stared out the window and watched the fat drops explode in little crown-shaped splashes in the river…er, I mean, the street. The rain intensified, and the engine of the old bus whined under the strain of driving through a significant puddle of water for an extended period of time. Now, I’ve been on the bus during heavy rains many times in the last year, but this ride beat them all. It wasn’t long before water started flooding in under the door at the front of the bus, racing toward the back of the bus (where I sat, happily elevated in the rear section of the vehicle) and giving the floor a good cleaning as it did so. I stifled a laugh as we hit a bump and the water forced its way between the pneumatic doors and soaked the poor bus driver — after all, the drivers are amazingly patient and kind people, but the sight was too unreal not to laugh at. I settled down and looked out my window once again at the traffic in the lane to our left. I must admit, I was impressed by what I saw. By this point, the water in the slow lane had reached ridiculous proportions, and the bus was sending a head-high wave (which would have pleased some of the surfers in my life) cascading over the cars attempting to pass it. Frighteningly, I noticed that water was at first dripping, and then steadily streaming down from the overhead lights running throughout the interior of the bus. It didn’t seem to have any impact whatsoever on the functioning of said lights, but the sight of water pouring out of electrical devices is unnerving nonetheless. Needless to say, I carefully scooted away from the wall of the bus, avoiding all contact with anything metal, and carefully put this newest development out of my thoughts. This was fairly easy to do, considering other passengers were regularly exiting the bus, which provided a nearly endless source of entertainment as I watched them step into shin-deep puddles, shield themselves from the rain with their arms (a silly and largely unsuccessful endeavor), and attempt to run to the nearest shelter. The closer we got to my stop, the more I struggled to come to terms with the fact that it was in all likelihood not going to stop raining by the time I had to leave my mostly-dry rectangular haven, and that I would very soon become someone else’s source of entertainment (a fact I found mildly comforting). Once I embraced the fact that the walk home was going to be wet, squishy, cold, and all manner of unsavory adjectives, I was able to stow my electronic devices deep down in my backpack and prepare for the seven-minute walk home. I summoned my love of rainstorms, and happily stepped off the bus…into a six-inch puddle of grassy water. So began what is probably my very last walk home from the bus stop I’ve been using for the last year, and it was a walk I will remember fondly. Lightning flashed overhead (rather blindingly, actually) and crackled through the air, conjuring up statistical probabilities regarding lightning strikes (most likely exaggerated by my overactive imagination) and personal accounts of special abilities attained from being struck by lightning (which I’d like to believe are not exaggerated by anyone’s imagination). Eventually, I arrived safe and sound at my dry little apartment where I promptly wrung out my dripping hair and decided that after the rather cold dousing I’d received from nature, a nice hot shower was in order.
