My Bad Experience

I had a bad experience. It happened last week.

I woke up late because my alarm clock didn’t ring. I got up quickly and had a shower in a hurry, and as you guess, I didn’t have enough time to eat breakfast.

I was driving my motorcycle fast in hoping I wouldn’t be late for my university, and that prevented me from taking a good look at the traffic lights. I failed to stop when the light was red.

And I was still driving fast when suddenly a policeman on his huge motorbike overtook me and told me to stop.

“Oh, shit!” I whispered. I pulled out.

The policeman just stopped his motorbike right in front of my motorcycle. He got down his motorbike and approached me.

“Good morning! You ran the red light. Can I see your driving license and paper, please?” he said as I was getting out of my motorcycle.

I tapped my back pocket trying to find my wallet where I have my driving license and paper. But the wallet was not there. I checked my handbagm but it was not there either.

“Excuse me, Officer. I don’t have my wallet. I left it at home. I am in a hurry,” I said apologetically. Of course the policeman wouldn’t listen to such excuses. He told me to get back home and fetch the driving license and paper. He said I could leave my motorcycle there and he would wait.

Luckily I had some money in my other pocket. I caught a public transport and went back home. 30 minutes later I got back to my car. I showed the policeman my driving license and paper and he gave me a ticket for running the red light and for failing to produce my driving license and paper.

By this time I was 45 minutes late for university. I was sure my teacher would be very angry. I had to drive to my office even faster. But there was another problem; I couldn’t find my motorcycle key. Perfect! I left my car key at home!

Cursing, again I headed back home and grabbed the damned key. The public transport trip to go back to my motorcycle was slow as the driver had to stop very often for more passengers. It took me 25 minutes to get back to my motorcycle.

When I was behind the wheel again, the time was 09.55. I was late, very late. I could see my teacher’s nasty face and could hear the words he would use to address my being late.

So I drove the rest of the trip like hell.

When I arrived at my class, I was surprised. The gate of the class was closed and I didn’t see anyone there, not even the my friend. The main door was also closed. And that was the time I realized it was Sunday.