Probably. But that’s not the point. The point is the journey. The shared awkwardness of a dozen strangers all hoping for the same thing. A ride. A miracle. A chance to get home before the reindeer do.
If it does run, you get a story. “I took the bus on Christmas Eve and lived to tell the tale!” If it doesn’t, you get an even better story. “I walked five miles through a blizzard and accidentally crashed a stranger’s dinner party.” Both are wins.
So step out into the night. Embrace the uncertainty. The bus is more than a machine. It’s a holiday tradition. One with diesel fumes, weird schedules, and a very, very tired driver named Gary.
Go on. Take the ride. The bus is waiting. Or maybe it’s not. That’s the fun part.
