A summarized transcript of a phone call I made from the bus this morning:
Tammy (my coworker): Hello?
Me (whispering into my phone so my fellow commuters wouldn't hear): Hey Tam, it's Steph.
Me: Are you busy?
Tammy: No, oh, but it's your birthday! Happy birthday!
Me: Thanks. Hey, I was wondering if you could do me a favour.
Tammy: Sure, what do you need?
Me (sheepishly): Um, well, see, I got on the wrong bus this morning and I was hoping that you wouldn't mind coming to get me.
Tammy: OH NO! Where are you?
Me: Dartmouth Crossing. I saw the 6 on the bus and thought it was the 66... but it was the 56...
I'm such a moron.
Tammy: No you're not. But it's not a good way to start your birthday.
Me: Can you pick me up on Commodore?
Me: Thanks Tam.
Note: I am not THAT blind, but when the bus rounded the corner this morning at the Mic Mac terminal, I squinted, saw what I thought was the 66, then turned my back to the bus in order to walk to where it would eventually pull up. It wasn't until I got on and noticed that one of the other people I usually see on my bus wasn't getting on that I started to wonder. But she was wearing jeans, so I thought she had the day off and was going somewhere else.
Luckily, Dartmouth Crossing is about 1km from my office.
Apparently 34 is not going to be my banner year.