Walking across the street tonight, lost in thought about the board meeting I was just at, I was very nearly run over by a city bus.

I'm telling you the truth. All those stories you hear of people being run over by buses (or urban myths/jokes/threats, what-have-you) could have been a lot more real for all the dirtyolive readers around the globe. You would have probably read a little obituary, perhaps in Moxee or Chair's weblog, to sadly reveal the reason for my prolonged absence.

My Mother, who reads this daily, is probably shaking her head and marveling at how things never change. Many moons ago, actually about 24 years to the day, I was very nearly run down by a bus. We lived very close to the school and I was proudly crossing the street, followed closely by the keen eyes of my mother at the living room window. I wanted to catch up with the pretty lady who had already crossed. The cross-walker had already returned to the far side of the road and traffic had started but, as D can verify, I have the concentration skills of a deaf surgeon and was only concentrating on? - following the pretty lady of course.
The next thing I saw was the front grill of a bus (they were flat nosed back then and therefore, very very close). The driver was leaning on the horn. I could smell the... "bus-burning-rubber-brakey-thing" smell.

All very scary. I'm sure even more scary for my Mother who was watching the whole thing happen - most likely in slow motion.

I may have some bus killing karma coming to me from somewhere. What a weird way to die.