the 7:30 bus

RUNNING down Allem Avenido I consider the consequences of slowing down- I would miss my pre-booked  bus to BA.  Not an option.  Alex right behind me, Taryn and Jeremy a few blocks over.  The back pack bounces against my spine as the waist belt slips up and off the illiac crest to my waist.  Two purses are slung over either shoulder, I pull their weight tighter to my chest.  The flip flops clap against the pavement as I dodge the lamp posts, gaping holes in the concrete and human beings walking at a normal speed.  My breath is even and I thank god that I usually practice cardio at a 7000 foot elevation!
I have to say- I saw it all coming.

The VW red van slams hard into the back end of the mustard color tailgate-less chevy truck.  Neither vehicle moves to the side of the road to discuss insurance.  "Que?" they loudly question each other through open windows with big hand gestures as we slowly drive down the street.  The traffic is a mess, four cars wide inching down the side streets on a series of one ways.  We are heading towards the hostel.  We continue to insist to our friend of a friend who was driving us that we can get out and walk.  Finially, we NEED to get out in order to make it to our 7:30 p.m bus.

It is 7:05 and we are supposed to arrive at least 20 minutes before the departure.  So, we get to running.  Taryn and Jeremy have their luggage at the bus station so we part ways as Alex and I head towards the hostel which is holding our gear in a closet in the dining room.  The six blocks to the hostel was merely a warm up.  Weightless and jogging, we had our bags and were ready to move again by 7:20.  Alex requests a taxi to be called from the front desk, but we know that there is no time to wait AND the traffic due to road construction is what put us in this problem in the first place. 
I will also mention that the driver drinking 3 mojitos and a few beers definitely assisted in both his poor judgment of depth and his lack of desire to leave the bar to take us where and when he had prior promised.
At about a block per minute I figured we would just make it.  We had to run.  I took off, only looking back once but I figured as long as one of us reached the bus... I could stall the driver with some sort of song and dance!
Sloppily pounding pavement, weaving through the masses, I arrived with two minutes until departure.  The mojito buzz is gone, feeling the lungs for the first time in awhile, I handed off my luggage.  Laughing as I climbed the stairs to the second floor to find my seat, I could help but smile.  Jeremy throws me a high five as he passes through the aisle.
We made it.  I guess I knew we would.  Five minutes on the drive and the bus attendants (I guess they would be called) have already passed through to offer complimentary candies and soda for each of us.  First class 12 hour bus ride didn't turn out to be too bad; movies and sparkling made the few waking hours pass quickly.  Sleeping was a little rough, but the seats turned into comfortable beds and everything was very clean.  Vietnam could learn a few things... Argentina's overnight bus system is where it is at!