I was living in the San Francisco Bay Area and decided to fly home for Thanksgiving. I didn’t want to drive to the airport and none of my friends was available to take me, so I decided to take the bus.
I called the bus scheduling number and got all the information I needed to take the express bus on Wednesday to the airport. I figured out what time I would need to catch the bus to arrive an hour before the flight.
So, I get to the bus stop on time with my single carry-on bag, check to make sure the bus number is correct and confirm with the driver that he is going to airport. Check, check and check.
You probably know an express bus goes from here to there with no or minimal stops. So, we’re cruising along and stopping at EVERY SINGLE BUS STOP between here and there. I’m kinda panicking. I’m looking at my watch. Time is ticking away.
I finally say to the driver: “I thought this was the express to the airport, but you’re stopping at all the stops.”
His reply: “This is only the express on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
Of course, I have visions of the plane leaving without me, that teary-eyed phone call home explaining that I missed my flight, my teary-eyes parents sad that I’m not coming in, etc.
We pull up to the airport -- less than five minutes until my flight. I dart off the bus and, yelling “excuse me, excuse me,” pull an O.J. Simpson and make a mad dash through the airport, up the escalator, from the front of the airport to literally the very last gate at the farthest point away from where I started. They were just starting to close the door to the gangway when I ran up.
I apologized for being late and got on the plane, everyone looking at me, wondering WTF?
No comments:
Post a Comment