In which I miss my train

Shit. Dunno if it's some sort of passive aggressive protest at the way things are, spurred on by all the class rage of Breaking Bad, or terrified avoidance of the reality of my encroaching final essays, or maybe a mere response to miserable weather, but today is the second day this week that I've missed class at UBC. Both classes, mind you, were going to be predominantly devoted to film screenings - In Bruges for my Cult Movies class on Monday, Inglourious Basterds for American Cinema Since 1960. Nevermind that I've seen both movies, and in fact own both on DVD, or that it's a bit of a waste to spend two hours on trains and buses getting to class in order to just watch a film; this doesn't really mean anything, because attendance is graded, and the professors do sometimes say things of import to our readings of the films, by way of an introduction. Plus I was going to be working on a paper after class today - was going to stay late at the library. Monday's absence I actually don't feel that pissed at myself about - I was awakened by stomach cramps and diarrhea at 2am, having barely even fallen asleep, and had no luck getting back to sleep for the remainder of the night, so my decision to turn off my alarm and try for another few hours was a considered one. Today, however - I was quite shocked to get out of the shower and see that it was 7:36, that I'd lingered just long enough to make even the briskest trot to the train station futile (last train in leaves at 7:44). I attempted it anyway - I was five minutes away, with a busy bypass to cross and a downhill slope slippery with wet leaves to traverse, when I heard the train pulling up, and knew beyond a doubt that I would not make it - that at best I'd catch a glimpse of the train's tail as it receded in the distance. I turned back, trudging up the hill I'd just come down, grumbling to myself, my heart still pounding from the quick walk I'd attempted. What a loser.