I am pretty sure I got the worst of the deal. One thing, I am never sneaking out of work 15 minutes early ever, ever again.

Recap: Blue mini van merges in front of me, light turns red, we all stop for red light. Transit bus behind me carrying 40 passengers? Not so much into stopping. Smacks me hard in the rear (that sounds wrong) and pushes me into the car in front of me. Head whips forward and then forcefully connects with headrest. Seemed like slow motion and I think “hey that is what those headrests are for…that is gonna hurt in the morning”.

The bus had a bike rack in front which minimized damage to the back of my van. In fact, both my bumpers did exactly what they were supposed to do and saved the van from most damage. The bumpers are now a little warped and will have to be replaced so that the next time a bus decides to hit me they can absorb the impact. One of the bikes on the rack cracked my back window and shattered the bus window. Minivan in front of me? No damage at all. They left quite of bit of their junkmobile on my car, but no one could see anything on their car.

Bus supervisors arrive and want me to go ahead and run along. I say naw…I will wait for police. (Aside: If you are the police and you are driving down one of the busiest streets during rush hour and you see a transit bus and two minivans sitting in the middle of the lane with their emergency flashers on…why do you drive around and go on?) Meanwhile 15/40 bus passengers suddenly decide they are injured. They do not want medical called to the site, but they want the police to take their statements. Pretty sure they were seeing dollar signs. Then the non-English speaking couple in the van I hit decide they have injuries (or at least that is what the interpreter I got off the bus says). So we do the cop deal, which takes two hours and its 40 degrees outside and I don’t have a jacket and NOW AFTER I SAID OVER AND OVER that I am ok? Now? My neck is starting to seriously tighten up. I have to borrow the cops cell phone to call Mr. Vixen, because surely by now he is freaking the hell out.

I hang on (I can always sue tomorrow), it looks like it is wrapping up. In fact, the transit authority comes up and tells me I can go home. I say, “No, I think I will wait for the police officer to return my driver’s license to me.” New bus arrives to take the passengers on their merry way. I start walking back to where the cops are and one of the bus transfers whips out his ding-a-ling out and starts watering the ground. I walk/run back to the cops and holler “hey, officer, that guy is just standing there in front of everyone peeing!” The female officer replies, “yea all the people on the bus really have to go, it’s ok.”

Uh no, no it’s not ok. I have to go, too, there is no bathroom in my van either. But you don’t see me dropping “trou” on the side of the road do ya? And also, it bothers me a lot that is why I brought it to your attention. The office who has my driver’s license says “Here is your license and here is my name, badge number and the report number. You can call you insurance and give them that number. Now, you will be receiving a bill from the City of Escoxxxx at a rate of $50 an hour for cell phone usage, but you can make the check payable to me.” Ha, ha hahaha. Funny guy. Home at last and the shaking begins, which only intensifies the seemingly pinched thing in my neck/shoulder.

Now its a few hours later, many IBUs, a heating pad alternated with ice, and several glasses of blush. All the world is ok again. After all, I can type this can’t I?

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