A Wall Street guy named Barry, power suit practically glued to his skin, was late for a very important meeting. NYC Hustle: Bus vs. Man (LOL!) He saw a bus just pulling away from the curb. Now, Barry wasn’t about to let a measly bus dictate his quarterly earnings. He started sprinting, briefcase bouncing like a caffeinated kangaroo.
“Hold the bus! Hold it!” he yelled, his voice cracking slightly from the exertion.
The bus driver, a guy named Sal who’d seen it all in his twenty years on the route, glanced in his rearview mirror. He saw Barry, red-faced and determined, chasing after him. Sal sighed. He knew how these mornings went.
“Nah, I ain’t stoppin’, pal,” Sal muttered to himself. He even sped up a little, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
Barry wasn’t giving up. He dodged a hot dog vendor, narrowly avoided a collision with a flock of pigeons, and kept pounding the pavement, his expensive Italian loafers probably screaming in protest. He even tried to reason with the bus, shouting, “Think of the market! Think of the GDP!”
Finally, after five blocks of pure, unadulterated NYC hustle, Barry caught up to the bus at a red light. Gasping for air, he hammered on the door.
Sal opened it with a theatrical flourish. “Well, well, well,” he said, leaning out. “Look what the cat dragged in. You made it, buddy! What’s the emergency?”
Barry, chest heaving, straightened his tie and puffed himself up. “I… I just wanted to ask… is this the M15 going downtown?”
Sal stared at him for a beat, then burst out laughing. “Nah, pal. This is the express to the Bronx Zoo. You’re gonna have to run five blocks the other way if you want downtown.”
