MOVE THAT BUS!

My friend was celebrating his 30th birthday party on a double-decker in San Diego one weekend. Ultimately the night was relatively tame as most of the stops were took us to chill dive bars but pounding drinks with a ton interesting characters and aggressively drinking like starved animals lead to a good number of interesting moments.
We all had changed up personalities and story-lines in an effort to make hitting on women more interesting. While pretending to be a native Londoner with one of the English guys that was in the group, I spotted the double-decker party bus passing by the window of the bar.
“Fuck’n ‘ell Mate!” I yelled pointing out the window and slamming my whiskey-coke on the table. I shouldered my way out the door and took off in a full sprint down the open road.
Wearing jeans, a dress shirt, and dress shoes I hit a full speed sprint jumping off the sidewalk and into the street setting my gaze to the bright red double-decker bus less than 80 yards away. One of the people inside the bus sitting on the top level noticed my T-1000 style chase and tapped a few others around him to take a look. While everyone on the bus was cheering me on from the top back window of the double-decker, people watching from the sidewalks and bar windows took notice too. Cheers and encouraging screams erupted from all sides of me as I gained ground on the bus.
A lucky break, the bus had slowed for a quick red light and the light had just changed to green.
The bottoms of my dress shoes pounded the street in a good old fashion man versus machine footrace over the length of nearly two blocks. My legs burned as I hot-footed it catching up alongside the towering red giant. With faces pressed against the side windows and cheers of jubilation roared from the inside as I had nearly caught up to the side door. The driver, completely unaware of our drag race increased his speed with nothing but an open street ahead of him. With a sudden burst of energy and a winner take all mindset; I leapt off my feet with full extension to grasp the chrome handle by the door as the bus continued to accelerate.
I missed by what was later estimated (and reenacted) by “everyone” on the bus to be an inch, my fingers may have even grazed the polished metal of the handle. My shoulder hit the ground first as I splashed onto asphalt and rolled a few times. I came to a stop flat on my stomach, looking up from the ground, I extended my arm in vain upwards at the bus calling out, “You’ve forgot one!”
Red brake lights on the back of the bus suddenly jumped to life. The bus came to a stop. Hysterical applause emanated from the entire top of the bus as bystanders and people in front of bars whistled and clapped. Dusting myself off, I sauntered up to the bus and received a standing ovation, a beer, and a sea of high fives as I strolled to the back of the bus.
It was just one of those nights.
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