Along for the Ride

I wish someone had warned me. Busses in Italy are serious business. When I stepped into the violently orange bus that would take me to school, I flashed my weekly ticket in the direction of the driver, and casually stood near the front. This was a mistake.
No sooner had I positioned myself up front, the bus lurched forward and sped down the road. The abrupt start caused me to stumble into another passenger, before regaining my balance and by throwing an arm around a pole. I clung the the railing, holding on for dear life as the bus whipped around round-abouts and zoomed down winding side streets. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the pole, and even so I stumbled and very nearly lost my balance several more times. Every five minutes or so, the bus would screech to  a halt, opening up to allow several more passengers. It didnt seem as if anyone else had the bus in a death grip, they were used to the terrifying ride. Im sure I attracted quite a few funny looks as a clung frantically to my lifeline.
The bus driver was quite relaxed. He would occasionally get out his phone, send a couple text messages, and glance at the poor new girl (me), grimacing as she turned a light shade of green. He even smoked a cigarette, darting around sharp angles with one hand, while I lost feeling in both my hands from gripping the pole.
It reminded me of the time I had gone white water rafting in Virginia, and was, like now, stationed at the front of the vessel in a spot referred to as "The Bull Rider". I think you can imagine why.
When we arrived at school, I was pushed out of the door by a wave of other students, and stumbled to the pavement, feeling vaguely sick and disoriented. Unable to balance correctly, I tottered to the school, already thinking about the ride home.