I was turning left onto 11th Street, the main artery that directs traffic from the outskirts of the city, back into the suburb known as Montgomery Place. I was seated high atop a bus, a post which affords me the ability to see further than the common driver who is perched behind the wheel of their sub-compact or SUV. As a bus driver, we are taught to look everywhere and see everything. Alone, I have seven mirrors for my eyes to dart back and forth to, spending no more that a few fleeting seconds, ensuring that the perimeter of the bus is clear, and that's not mentioning the great windshield before me that allows me to see clear into the far horizon.
The coast-was-clear, so to speak when I proceeded into the intersection, the small patch of real estate that separates the southbound traffic from the north. There was no traffic headed north, to I had ample time to clear my big rig without incident. When I got about three quarters of the way through the intersection, is when I glanced down and saw him.
Before I began my trek across the road, I ensured that it was safe to do so. The traffic around me was a white Toyota passing me in the far right hand lane, and a slow moving train of traffic headed up by a bright red Pontiac, approaching from 11th Street, the street I intended to turn onto. There is a giant stop sign on the corner, so large that even Stevie Wonder himself, could see it. Traffic has to stop, so this shouldn't be a factor for me. However, as large as the stop sign is, this fellow in the red Pontiac, wasn't able to see it, as his face was buried in his cell phone. I can only assume that what he was reading was an important text. After all, nobody ever texts and drives, unless it's an emergency... I say sarcastically, tongue-in-cheek.
The coast-was-clear, so to speak when I proceeded into the intersection, the small patch of real estate that separates the southbound traffic from the north. There was no traffic headed north, to I had ample time to clear my big rig without incident. When I got about three quarters of the way through the intersection, is when I glanced down and saw him.
Before I began my trek across the road, I ensured that it was safe to do so. The traffic around me was a white Toyota passing me in the far right hand lane, and a slow moving train of traffic headed up by a bright red Pontiac, approaching from 11th Street, the street I intended to turn onto. There is a giant stop sign on the corner, so large that even Stevie Wonder himself, could see it. Traffic has to stop, so this shouldn't be a factor for me. However, as large as the stop sign is, this fellow in the red Pontiac, wasn't able to see it, as his face was buried in his cell phone. I can only assume that what he was reading was an important text. After all, nobody ever texts and drives, unless it's an emergency... I say sarcastically, tongue-in-cheek.
At the last moment, Charlie, looked up at the big yellow bus that was mere inches away from his front bumper. I don't know if that was his name or not. For driving in the manner he was, I'd just as quickly assume his name was Dumb-Fuck. He looked up at the bus, jamming on his brakes, last second. His gaze swung up to meet mine. His eyes as wide open as they ever could be. They looked like two eggs served sunny side up. That's when I saw it. That fleeting moment that is very rarely witnessed with the naked eye. The minuscule second when, as an outsider, you know exactly what's happening on the inside of another. The moment that Charlie, realized his impending demise, and shit his pants. The literal "holy shit moment". As an outsider, this moment is every bit as magical as witnessing a beautiful sunset off the beach of a tropical island or hearing the first cry of a newborn baby. This is how magical this moment was for me.
We both escaped the scenario with out a scratch, although I suspect Charlie will have to throw away his obliterated underwear. No amount of detergent is going to clean away that horrendous mess. He, likely got nothing out of the experience, except the stench of stinky shit the rest of his trek homeward, but as for me... The whole event took less than one or two seconds, but for me, the experience gave me five paragraphs of what I can only assume, is some of my best writing to date.
We both escaped the scenario with out a scratch, although I suspect Charlie will have to throw away his obliterated underwear. No amount of detergent is going to clean away that horrendous mess. He, likely got nothing out of the experience, except the stench of stinky shit the rest of his trek homeward, but as for me... The whole event took less than one or two seconds, but for me, the experience gave me five paragraphs of what I can only assume, is some of my best writing to date.
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