Independence Day…in more ways than you’d think…

Today is special day.

July 4th–Independence Day. Happy 4th to my only US follower. 🙂
Today also marks one week of the new train schedule.

Maybe we should be more like Will Smith (you’ll never hear that again) and exercise our independence, take back our train, and our commute.

That’s right! Today will be the day we commuters (ok, only me) decide if commuting is worth really worth the hassle.

We are taking back the train! We want the old schedule back! I want to leave at 6:30! Not 6:18!

I want hot dogs! And buns!

If I were American, I would cause a ruckus.

I would be outspoken.

I would be fearless.

I would take a stand.

I would demand hot dogs.

I would be walking to work.

Luckily, I am Canadian.

I will demonstrate polite disdain for scheduling woes with a passive aggressive blog.

I will sit in the “Quiet Zone” and wonder if “rush hour” is a loose interpretation.

I will strike up friendly conversation with fellow passengers in search of new blog material.

I will intentionally converse in the “Quiet Zone” because my fellow Canadians will fail to call me out and suffer in silence.

I will have a serviette handy in case hot dogs become available. With a pop. And poutine.

If commuting is the worst part of my work day, then it’s really not so bad.
The Customer Service Ambassador just mumbled something in the PA that no one understood because of bad reception.

My fellow Canadians and I can only hope it didn’t affect our travels, being too kind to ask for clarification.

I hope I’m not on an express to Oshawa.

Accepting of my fate, I wonder how commuting is in the US.

The trains must be bigger.

It must be louder.

They must have hot dogs.

I mull this over. Maybe I should get a job there.

I really like the United States.

If you take petty things like health care, gun control and international likability, I can think of a few reasons the US might be a better place.

They have bigger sizes to things.

At Starbucks in the US, you can order a Trenta-sized drink.

In Italian, ‘Trenta’ is loosely interpreted as shameful glutton.

I like the colour orange.

Trump is orange.

Their Taco Bell has a better value menu.

Clearly I’ve made solid points, but it’s not enough.

Getting shot in the Quiet Zone, just because I spilled my Trenta while eating my Taco Bell and talking about Trump.

I will enjoy this rather peaceful commute.

One disgruntled blog post at a time.


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