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I raise a big fat martini toast to all the times I have hauled ass with my coffee cup and school stuff down from the number 20 bus stop in front of the Corte Ingles, past the huge never-ending metro construction pit, hordes of calmly commuting, smoking Spanish employees, old men in old man bars cracking their 8 am beers, down the 1738 flights of stairs to cram money in the RENFE machine for a ticket just to hear the beeps of death and the rush of wind as the train pulls away down the coast.
So, so punctual when I am so, so tardy. |
On a positive note, my commute got significantly shorter this year, which is directly proportional to the amount of nap time I get between school and private classes. Victory is mine, RENFE, victory is mine.
You and I are swapping commutes this year! At least I'll get a train every 20 minutes.
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