Dear Bus Driver Who Did Not Widow My Wife,
Super Dave Osborne-esque temptation of fate that I got right. Normally, I am much more cautious and would never attempt to cross at an intersection that is clearly obstructed by trees, I would not have attempted to cross against the light, and I would have been wearing a effing blinky light! What got into me this morning you ask? A serious case of momentary lapse of reason is all I can figure. You see, I have a Half Marathon to run, which I understand that I can't run if I am busted all to hell and back because I lost a game chicken with a bus, but you see . . . my Achilles has been sore since Saturday and that is all I was thinking about. Well . . . not all . . . he is where I really feel like my frikin nincompoopery maxes out. And this my kindly bus driver is true! Not 15 minutes before I tested out my sprinting skill and your brakes, I ran past a guy dressed like the Frikin Grim Reaper! I know that you want to call bull-shit on this, but it is true. I would not shit a person, whose quick reflexes just saved me from accidentally pruning my own limb from my family tree.
It was before dawn and misting out. I was running past Smoker Friendly/Cigar Express gas station (google it if you think I am making it up) and out of the fog comes a guy dressed in head to toe black, wearing long flowing trench with a black hoodie underneath. His hood was up and his hands are gloved. When I first saw him walking towards me I thought "You've got to be kidding me. The Grim Reaper." But as he got closer I could feel my pace quicken and my heart beat faster. I couldn't make out his face as I passed, but really . . . . looking him in the eye was the last thing on my mind. I went past him and shortly got to my turn around point about a half a block down the street. When I turned around and headed back the way I had come, to my relief, Reaper dude was gone. Now, I at the time I didn't think that he step off into the ethereal plane or some shit like that. I thought that he just turned down a side street of crossed over to the other side of the road. But now, as I write this letter to my kindly Bus Driver, I am forced to wonder just a bit, if the reaper was doing a bit of scouting. Because, a mile a half later, even though I was looking both was as I began to cross the street, I did not see your ginormous "vehicle of mass transportation/express to the afterlife". Once again, this was entirely my bad and if it make you feel a bit better, I think I peed a little as I stared into your headlights.
Greg from Locker 29