It was such a beautiful day.
Or maybe it wasn’t.
It was probably overcast.
But who really cares? Because it was London! My friend and I were wandering around, ignoring our sore feet, and making our way toward the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square.
I was pretty cocky about my understanding of London traffic at that point. I’d gotten used to looking down at the road to see if I was supposed to look left or right – or so I thought.
I knew that, similar to the yellow ones in New York, the red ones don’t stop in London.
What I didn’t know was that I almost found that out the hard way.
There was a crowd gathering on the sidewalk of the rather confusing intersection in front of Trafalgar Square and I thought it was our turn to go, so I ran confidently out into what appeared to be an empty street and just as I made it to the other sidewalk, I turned around to see my friend’s shocked face for just a moment before a double-decker bus zoomed in front of me.
I try not to think about that moment too often because it was a near-death experience I had no idea was happening. And if I think about it too much, my hands get clammy and my face gets flushed and I start thinking about all of the what-ifs that could’ve ended with my body being shipped back to Canada care of the insurance I had purchased before my trip.