Driving Miss Splenda Stealer

I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but I’m a big deal. I must be. I got my OWN car to drive me from the Piers on 55th St. and 12th Ave. (I was there to report for some Gift Fair companies for the day job). Only, it wasn’t a car, but a bus. MY VERY OWN BUS.

Now, would you call this eco-friendly? Don’t get me wrong–I was so happy to get a ride from the middle of nowhere to Grand Central, where I work a block away, and when it’s 20 degrees out, but come on. I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty.

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I should have sat in every seat possible. I should have run up and down the aisles. Perhaps a cartwheel or two. Who am I kidding, somersaults would have been my thing. My bus, MINE!

But, I didn’t. Instead, I sat in silence, stressing about the fact that I only had 37 cents on me when it would have been common decency to tip the driver. Oops.

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