Rush Hour 0.5: The Most Dramatic Commute of My Life

I didn’t know what was wrong with public transportation this morning—the bus stop was crowded, people were waiting restlessly beside the automatic door, and it took forever for the next bus to arrive.

Commuting isn’t always easy, and this morning was undeniable proof.

I ended up ordering an online bike ride to the office because it was 7:47 a.m. and I was still at the bus stop. I was afraid I would be late, but thankfully, the ride got me there smoothly in less than ten minutes. I ran to the attendance machine and claimed my victory.

If this post ended here, the morning wouldn’t have been entirely unhinged—and I wouldn’t even be writing about it. What actually happened, however, wasn’t unheard of, but still quite uncommon: it involved an already-packed bus and my rule-following tendency.

Before I decided to switch to another mode of transport, I was still waiting eagerly like the other commuters, hoping the next bus would be empty. And FYI, it was pretty hot this morning. Waiting in my thick jacket didn’t feel great, but I tried to stay positive.

But the next bus was still nowhere to be seen—and the queue had grown much longer in just a few minutes. Well, forget the empty bus! I would squeeze into the next one, no matter how full.

After a few more minutes, the bus finally arrived—but it was quickly packed with all the people in front of me. There was room for only one more… but barely. Since I had lowered my capacity standards, I trusted my petite body and strong will, and fearlessly wedged myself in.

Little did I know it would be my biggest mistake of the day. The upper half of my body (plus my small yet thick backpack) was still hanging out in the open air. I tried to shuffle in further, but maybe I just shouldn’t have (or it shouldn't even be “maybe” because I absolutely shouldn’t have!).

And then… Plop!

…

Everything stopped.

I watched in horror as my right slip-on sandal tumbled out of the bus and landed on the street.

Here’s a little illustration to help you imagine the situation.

I had no choice but to get off the bus again, feeling more hopeless than embarrassed. My eyes were fixed on the sandal with a resigned gaze. Other people’s eyes were fixed on me with pitying glares.

(I’m pretty sure the whole bus would buzz with gossip when the doors closed: “Did you see how that sandal fell off? I swear I got goosebumps!”)

Ah yes, nothing like being the morning’s headline in a footwear drama.

A kind man beside me, noticing my stare, reassured me, “I’ll help after this.” When the bus finally rolled away, taking the gossip session with it, he actually jumped off the bus stop and retrieved the sandal for me.

I said thank you two or three times. That was true heroism, to be honest.

And then I ran off because, well, it did eventually become quite embarrassing.

To bus coordinators everywhere: please take this story as hopeless criticism and make buses arrive as fast as a toddler spotting a cookie. And to the kind man who helped me this morning: thank you. I promise this slip-on sandal incident wasn’t me trying to be Cinderella.

If you like this, you might enjoy Walking Down Embarrassment Lane: Some Excerpts from My Old Blogs and How a Game Called ‘Crocodile’ Foresaw My Goat Feeding Panic.