From time to time, everyone may find themselves running late for various commitments like work, school, or appointments. Speaking from personal experience, I have had my fair share of tardiness, particularly when it came to catching my school bus. Although I never arrived late for class, there were occasions when I somehow managed to miss the bus that would wait at my stop for a generous three minutes. While I do not have a valid excuse for my lateness, allow me to recount what transpired on one such occasion.

On that catastrophic day, I overslept. My bus was scheduled to arrive at 7:17 a.m. and depart at 7:18 a.m. sharp. However, being the sleepyhead that I am, I had stayed up late the night before watching my favorite movie of all time, Top Gun Maverick for the seventh time now. When I finally woke up, it was already 7:10 a.m. This meant that I had to quickly get dressed, pack my bags, and sprint to the bus stop in order to catch my school bus. As I caught a glance at the bus, a glimmer of hope sparked within me, but as always, it was short-lived. My sister had already boarded the bus while I helplessly watched my aspirations crumble before my eyes. It felt as if the familiar yellow bus was mocking me, saying, "Better luck next time," which only served to annoy me further. My sister managed to make it onto the bus due to her longer legs, agility, and overall speed.

Desperate, I called my mother and informed her of my tardiness, suggesting there might still be time to catch the bus at the next stop. I asked if she could pick me up so we could race against the bus and hopefully intercept it at the next stop. My mother raced down with her car, but we arrived just in time for me to miss the bus again. We kept trying to catch the bus at the next and next stop and ended up arriving at the school with the bus. We all found ourselves in a mixed state of half-okay and half-depressed mood.

When I finally arrived at school, I had a precious 18 minutes until classes began. I felt a sense of relief knowing that I still had enough time to climb the seven flights of stairs from the basement level to the fourth floor, where my social studies class was held. Miraculously, I reached my classroom on time and had five minutes to spare. Without a doubt, it was one of the most nervewracking days of my life. Putting the stress aside, my friend shot me with questions about my whereabouts. Sarcastically, I replied, "I was cursed with sleeplessness and managed to be late for the bus." The rest of the day passed uneventfully, with no joy derived from studying subjects I disliked. I had two classes in the morning, followed by lunch, and then two more classes to wrap up the day.

Perhaps I should make it a habit to wake up earlier each day, even if it means sacrificing late nights or praying to God to give me fewer homework assignments.