One of those weeks

I got a can of coca-cola today. That is hardly news, but what is newsy is the fact that it still cost a dollar after all these years. Of course, not every place sell sodas for a buck. My remedy is to either forgo my cola urge, or go out of my way to find my $1 soda. For example, during lunch, I would often opt to make an extra stop at a nearby newsstand rather than purchasing the beverage with my food. My preference to convey this ever so common knowledge is not just for random effect, but, a genuine desire to illustrate how this talk of soda is really an appropriate way to begin my post. Afterall, I have had one of those weeks...

On Monday, I literally, woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Except, in my case, it was on the wrong side of the track. I got a summons for skipping the turnstile. The officer thought I didn’t pay even after explaining to them that I did what I did because my metrocard didn’t work. I swiped it several times at the turnstile until I got the “Just used” message since my card is an unlimited. A regular commuter faced with a non-working turnstile at 9:50 AM - in the midst of rush hour would either, a) Mutter obscenities at the turnstile; b) Look around and see that there is no MTA employee nearby to help them; c) Realize that the only person there is the one in the booth and there is a long line; d) Take things into their own hands and skip the turnstile; or e) All of the above.

Guess what I did? All of the above.

And I got a ticket for a $100!

And, guess who has to come to court? Me. Because I don’t wanna pay $100 for something I had to do, the RIGHT to do and PAID to do so, already. There is no difference to me whether I ducked underneath the turnstile, jumped over the turnstile, flew over the turnstile, flipped over the turnstile, somersaulted over the turnstile, pirouetted over the turnstile, or tele-ported over it since the turnstile registered that it was "Just used.” The only difference was that I was still at the other end of the turnstile without ever having gone through it, yet. From that moment and my decision to duck underneath it took no more than 2 seconds. When I got to the other side, I was summoned by two officers who were waiting there for me. They then proceeded to get my Driver’s license and for what seemed like a half hour, held me there as they wrote me a ticket and told me that I would get arrested if I didn’t tell them my SS# and place of work.

Now, I have a date with a judge.

Do you see where soda can help during these times? Soda is basically a poor man’s whiskey.