Banana Bashed

There I am at Schvitz!, minding my own beeswax before spin class. I gobble a nice banana and toss the peel in the nearest trash receptacle. God forbid someone should slip, know what I mean? I'm always thinking of others. Always. And yet, as I'm puttin' on my spin shoes, I sense a cranky-ass gal giving me the stink eye.
"Did you just throw that banana peel in the trash?"
"What?"
"The banana peel. Did you just throw it in the trash?"
"Yeah."
"So it's going to smell up the room."
I'm thinking: Disengage. Disengage. 
"Oh, well. Someone will empty the trash at some point."
"I guess you really don't care how that impacts everyone else."
I scan the room. There are four people, including us. 
"I guess not."
"Whatever."
"Whatever."
I'm thinking, let it go, let it go. But I'm me. I can't let it go. 
"What's wrong with you?" I ask. "I mean, seriously. How incredibly rude."
With that, I grab my gym bag, turn on my clunky spin shoes and make my dramatic exit. Be honest now. Aren't you proud of me for not telling her where she can stick that banana peel?