Bridget and Lizzie's Crosstown Bus Adventure
I was almost killed last night.
I'm going to start a lobbying group that aims to install seatbelts in buses across the United States by 2011.
Most people that visit from DC are apprehensive about riding the public bus in New York. Northern Virginia's bus system is so complicated that we just avoid it all together--er, Northern Virginians are major lazy asses and would never walk to a bus stop, much less figure out how to take a public bus to work when they can drive their VERY OWN SUV!
Anyways--the buses in New York are straight shots north, south, east and west. They drop me off on the corner of my street, much closer than the subway! They take me through Central Park, while the subway does not. And I love them. Cell phone service, hello! And after a night of celebrating sissy's birthday with happy hour and sushi, I thought I would give her a call to inform that I had fun on her bday and I hope she did too.
Midcall, at approximately 10 pm Thursday night, the M 72 Bus slammed its breaks in the middle of Central Park. Sitting in one of the sideways seats, I slid and crashed into the seat in front of me that was occupied by a Jewish man wearing a Jamaican-inspired--red, black, green and yellow--kippot (I personally like these).
Lizzie came flying behind and crashed into me. Before I had realized that my skull was not cracked open, we had launched into a fit of loud, annoying, happy hour-induced laughter that went on for longer than it should have.
My poor sister was confused. Various friends were later drunk dialed on the walk home. My mom wrote me an e-mail this morning to say it was very nice that I called my sister, but "Why were you drunk?"
"A car bomb, Mom. Don't ask, you don't want to know what it is."
I'm going to start a lobbying group that aims to install seatbelts in buses across the United States by 2011.
Most people that visit from DC are apprehensive about riding the public bus in New York. Northern Virginia's bus system is so complicated that we just avoid it all together--er, Northern Virginians are major lazy asses and would never walk to a bus stop, much less figure out how to take a public bus to work when they can drive their VERY OWN SUV!
Anyways--the buses in New York are straight shots north, south, east and west. They drop me off on the corner of my street, much closer than the subway! They take me through Central Park, while the subway does not. And I love them. Cell phone service, hello! And after a night of celebrating sissy's birthday with happy hour and sushi, I thought I would give her a call to inform that I had fun on her bday and I hope she did too.
Midcall, at approximately 10 pm Thursday night, the M 72 Bus slammed its breaks in the middle of Central Park. Sitting in one of the sideways seats, I slid and crashed into the seat in front of me that was occupied by a Jewish man wearing a Jamaican-inspired--red, black, green and yellow--kippot (I personally like these).
Lizzie came flying behind and crashed into me. Before I had realized that my skull was not cracked open, we had launched into a fit of loud, annoying, happy hour-induced laughter that went on for longer than it should have.
My poor sister was confused. Various friends were later drunk dialed on the walk home. My mom wrote me an e-mail this morning to say it was very nice that I called my sister, but "Why were you drunk?"
"A car bomb, Mom. Don't ask, you don't want to know what it is."
posted by flynn at 12:20 AM
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