One Hell of a Parking Job

Last night I was tucked away in my bunk watching the second half of 8 Mile on the way to Detroit. The bus swerved fast, and I felt the back wheels slide out. I could tell instantly that we were no longer on the road, but I couldn't tell where we were. We tipped in one direction, almost rolling completely over, and then back in the other. I was sent flying out of my bunk into the wall and then on to the floor. We finally skidded to a stop. Chaos. People and stuff everywhere. It turns out that we blew a tire, but not one of the eight or nine that don't do much of anything, but the front left drive tire. It was bad news. We slid off the highway straight into a wet, grassy median then across it towards oncoming traffic. The driver manged to pull us back onto the median before we hit another vehicle. We slid about 200 yards in the wet grass before coming to a stop about 100 feet from an overpass. I don't know about anyone else, but I was shitting it.