The Hitchhiker's Guide to Montpellier

I'M ALIVE!
It figures that, two days before I'm set to leave, I would have one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. The one upshot to a situation that still has me shaking is the fact that I can now check hitchhiking off my bucket list.
Today, I had decided, was going to be my last day in the city center. I felt like I had to take at least one more stroll around all the streets that I'd gotten to know so well over the past few months, and to say goodbye to some of my favorite places, like the bakeries and the comic book store where I had provided such good business.
I set out for the bus stop at around two o'clock, and waited. The bus was half an hour late. I realize now that I probably should have thought a little more about that.
I had a nice time in town, though it was very crowded- clearly the tourists were now arriving in full force. I can only imagine what it might be like in the July or August. A bunch of the shops that I wanted to visit were closed- another sign that I should have paid more attention to- and though it wasn't that sunny, it was very humid. I paid one last visit to the comic book store, and bought myself some macarons from my favorite bakery.
I headed out at around five o'clock, just as it was beginning to drizzle. My host mom had mentioned that there was an extreme sports exposition taking place this week just a few tram stops away, and had suggested that I go check it out. I've never seen extreme sports up close, and so wasn't about to pass up the opportunity.
It was really cool, and really crowded, and people did crazy tricks on bikes and, amazingly, no one died. And I stayed a bit longer than I should have. I wasn't too worried, because I knew the buses ran until nine o'clock, but eventually I told myself that I really needed to go. I took the tram back into the city, then caught another that took me to the bus stop.
It was around eight o'clock at this point, and I knew that this late in the day, the buses only ran once per hour. I checked the schedule, and was dismayed to see that the next bus- the last bas- ran at exactly nine o'clock, meaning I had a long, lonely wait ahead of me.
There were a few other people at the bus station with me, but eventually they all left, and as time passed, I grew more and more worried. What if the bus didn't come? It was, after all, the last bus of the day. And it was getting late. And I was the only person at the bus stop. What if the driver just decided it wasn't worth the effort to stop by and see if anyone needed a ride?
I waited. And I waited. I ate the macarons I had bought earlier. And nine o'clock came and went. And the bus didn't arrive.
At this point it was getting dark, and I was getting really scared. I began to seriously consider whether or not I could survive spending the night by myself at the bus stop. I wondered if there was any way I could walk to the house, before dismissing that as ridiculous. It was much too far (maybe a fifteen minute bus ride), and I didn't know the way. I searched through my backpack, but didn't find my phone. It was back at the house. And I didn't know my host mom's phone number, so even if I could find someone else and borrow their phone, it wouldn't do any good.
I wondered if my host mom had returned to the house yet (she had been at the hospital all day with my host sister, who had a kidney infection) and would wonder where I was, and come looking for me. I wondered how long that would take. The night before, she hadn't returned home until around eleven. Could I sit here by myself in the dark for two more hours, or possibly longer? I began to consider the likelihood of being kidnapped or mugged or worse.
I'm a big Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy fan, and the best piece of advice I've gained from that is: Don't panic. I tried not to panic. It was difficult. I was frightened, and I was helpless. There was literally nothing I could do, and that is one of the most terrifying realizations a person can have. I could panic. I could cry. I could lose it completely. But even then, my situation would not change. So I didn't actually cry. I just waited as it got later and colder, and I wondered if I was capable of hitchhiking. The fact that I even considered this option shows how desperate I was, because strangers frighten me. I trust no one. But I walked up to the side of the road and meekly stuck out my thumb.
No one stopped. I was caught between disappointment and relief.
And then, at maybe 9:20, the tram came by, and a man got off and joined me at the bus stop. He was youngish and dressed in black, and he asked if I had a lighter. I said no. I asked him if there was a bus. He said no. He said that it was a something (I didn't recognize the word) day, and the buses didn't run as late.
I had begun to suspect as much. I allowed myself, finally, to press my hands against my face and acknowledge the fact that I was royally screwed- or at least, I would be, if I didn't do something a little bit reckless.
He asked me where I was going. I told him the name of the village. He said he lived in the next village over. And so, in uncomfortable, broken French, I asked if he could give me a ride.
He said he would have to ask the friend who was coming to pick him up, but that he thought so.
And so we waited for the friend to arrive. The man was very pleasant- he asked me where I was from, and how I liked Montpellier. He told me he was trying to learn English, but that it was difficult, and he asked me if I found French to be difficult too. I found that I trusted him- though that may have been more out of necessity than anything else. In any case, he was short and fairly skinny, and I thought I might be able to take him in a fight if I had to.
I wondered, briefly, if he was lying about the friend, but the fact remained that there were no buses, and surely he had to get home somehow.
And finally, after maybe twenty minutes of waiting, a car pulled up with a man and a woman inside. The guy I'd been talking to explained the situation, and they cheerfully agreed to give me a lift.
I got in the car.
They chatted animatedly throughout the ride, and dropped me off where I indicated- a short distance from my neighborhood. I thanked them profusely, got out of the car, and walked home. It was ten o'clock at this point.
I'm still shaking, and thinking about how lucky I am, and about the fact that I could, right now, still be standing alone at the bus stop.
When my host mom arrived home, about an hour later, she was exhausted from spending the day at the hospital with her daughter, so I didn't tell her about my adventure. She didn't need to know.