Why I Never Miss the Bus

It was May 3, 2007, a warm, bright day. Every field was filled with blooming flowers and all the trees were covered with lime green leaves; everything seemed beautiful and normal besides this madness. I was in the back seat of a police car that had picked me up at my school. All I could see ahead of me were the metal cage and a busy hand of the police officer who was constantly typing something in his laptop while driving. Embarrassing. Humiliating. These two words kept ringing in my ears during my entire ride. Seriously, who rides in a police car just because she missed her stupid school bus?

I had been in America for only three months at that time, yet I was doing well in my school. I worked hard, received fairly good grades, socialized with people, and earned a good reputation with teachers; I seemed to achieve all these things despite the wall of language differences. However, those accomplishments were meaningless in front of the harsh reality; the bus was gone, my phone service was suspended, and no one was going to give me a ride. After thirty minutes of desperate wandering in my school, I finally went to a reception assistant lady for help, but the situation did not improve. As the time went by, I became hysterical, and the hysteria gradually influenced the lady; she started speaking even faster and in a higher pitch. Frustrated and terrified by the whole situation, I was ready to cry. When the lady noticed the expression on my face, she brought me back to her room and asked me very seriously, and slowly; “Dooo yoooou waaaannt too riiiiide a poliiice caaarr?”

A what? A police car! I was stunned for a moment, but still conscious of the fact that I had no other options. I nodded helplessly. Then the next thing I knew, I was heading home, pretty much barricaded in the backseat of a police car.

By the next day, I was terrified. I felt everybody in my school was whispering about it, and making fun of me, which was even a greater humiliation than the incident. However, I did not bring myself down. After all the things that I had accomplished so far, I thought it was not fair to displace them just because of this one mistake. Therefore I moved on. Because I knew I was going to be haunted by this experience for a while, I only looked forward and concerned about what lay ahead of me. I consistently did my work and kept socializing with new people. As a result, the initial embarrassment gradually faded away with each week, and I finally regained my confidence by the end of my freshman year. Furthermore, I was not embarrassed by the incident anymore; it became another proud struggle against the odds in America, and a guide that rescued me from every disappointment and despair that I went through after the incident in past three years.

Also, since then, I have never missed the bus.