First, a short story.
The year was 1997.
Or 1998. I forget.
I know I was newly married, and didn’t have kids yet.
The wife and I were both attending Ball State University.
That’s right. I went to BSU.
Sounds appropriate, doesn’t it.
But this story is no BS.
We were non-traditional students, who lived off campus.
Since we commuted to school, we would park in a lot and ride the shuttle buses to class.
This particular semester, our schedules overlapped so that she boarded a shuttle bus in front of the building were my next class was about to start.
I would go out and talk to her until the bus came.
The thing about these shuttle buses?
The drivers were all CRAZY.
Like they were all retired NASCAR drivers or something.
“Hey buddy! SLOW DOWN! You’re hauling kids back here, NOT moonshine!”
They would come flying up to a stop, and pull RIGHT.UP.ON.THE.CURB!
This particular day, I was standing on the sidewalk with my back to the oncoming lane, and talking to my wife.
Suddenly, I see her eyes get really wide.
And then it hits me.
I am knocked forward onto the ground with the wind out of me.
My back is throbbing.
Everybody was freaking out, and saying “OMG! Are you alright? Holy shit! That bus just hit you!”