On
the train - An insight into my mind
On way to the metro station I counted all of my coins, and prepared myself with
the exact right change for the ticket machine before I arrived.
I
had a pocket full of change but I had to count it just in case I wouldn’t have
enough change for the way back, because if that was the case I would have to
make sure to save a dollar bill that was crisp enough to work in the machine
because if I ended up having to use a five I’d end up with more change and I
always have too much change, it’s a constant battle to manage it.
I put my coins in the machine, a mixture of dimes, quarters and nickles, and
when all the coins had entered the machine it claimed I still owed 25c. This
made me mad, as I had pre-counted my coins. I knew I had put them all in. I
waited for a moment thinking that perhaps the machine was just slow in
counting, and I hadn’t noticed because I was putting in a bunch of coins and
not paying too close attention as they added up, but after a few moments I was
convinced now that the machine thought I owed another 25c.
I
checked every slot in the machine for the missing quarter, I checked the floor
just in case I had somehow dropped it and not heard in land, even though the
very thought seemed ludicrous, because I am always aware when I drop coins, mostly
because if I drop a penny do I look desperate for picking it up, or do I look
more like an ungrateful bastard if I don’t pick it up? After a few moments of
looking around I was now convinced the machine had ripped me off. I was angry
for a couple of seconds, cursing the machine makers for their incompetence, and
the government for allowing money like this to be stolen from citizens, and thens
something occurred to me.
Tickets are $1.50 not $1.25.
Now I beat myself up for being so fucking stupid as to forgetting this, as I’d
just ridden the metro a couple of days earlier and had made a big deal to
myself over thinking it was $1.25 only to find out it was $1.50 and how
mistakes like that completely undo the good work of pre-checking change
rations.
Now I imagined what would have happened had I verbalized my complaint that the
machine had missed registering my 25c only for someone to pull out security
footage proving that I'd only put in $1.25 and then just how fucking humiliated
I'd be learning it was $1.50 and trying to defend myself saying 'it was $1.25
when I used to ride all the time, so I am not a complete moron' but knowing
even I couldn’t defend that argument because I had travelled on the metro two
days earlier and had made a mental note to not forget that it was now $1.50 and
come to think of it am I really sure it was ever $1.25? Actually no. Man what a
fucking fool of myself I would have made had I complained which I would never
have done because I never do complain just in case it ends up that I was in the
wrong and would look like an idiot.
This made me flash back to New Zealand ten years ago when for only the second
time ever, I honked my car horn. A man made an illegal move on some road nearly
crashing into me as I drove my rental car to the airport to fly home and an
accident now would have caused me who knows how much hassle. So I honked him.
About two years later I was reading a story on driving trips in New Zealand in
an Australian newspaper and it mentioned something extremely alarming. There
was a particular driving law that in New Zealand is the opposite of what it is
in Australia, which has been known to cause accidents when Australians drive in
New Zealand or vice versa. I didn’t remember that exact situation which took
place when I had honked my horn in New Zealand, but now I suddenly thought ‘oh
my god, that time I honked my horn in New Zealand, maybe it was in fact ME that
was in the wrong and therefore not only did I nearly cause an accident but I
honked my horn in anger even though I was in the wrong! Holy fuck, what a
fucking asshole that would have made me!’
I
imagined the other driver telling the story to his friends ‘so this guy nearly
hits me with his car, and then HE honked ME’ and now all these guys hate me too
‘what a fucking wanker that guy is, if he comes around here again I will kick
his ass for you’.
‘Oh
my god’ I though ‘if this spreads, half of fucking New Zealand is probably
going to hate me’.
I
have literally never honked my car horn since, and now, quite regularly, if a
situation comes up where I think I am in the right in any walk of life, I think
of this moment in New Zealand and hold back my anger, because sometimes when
you think you’re in the right it turns out you were actually in the wrong, and
to get angry when you are in the wrong is unforgivable.
Feeling like shit, I go to pull out the extra quarter I need to pay for my
ticket. This isn’t as easy as it seems, because now I have to re-count all of
my coins to make sure I still have change for the ride home, now needing 25c
more than I thought I was going to need, and yet possessing 25c less than I had
on my original count. Low and behold, I now no longer had enough change for the
ride home.
‘You
deserve that for being a fool’ I said to myself. Then I flashed back to the
small pile of coins on my floor in my apartment that had fallen out of my
pocket as I switched my belt from my jeans to my shorts. I thought they were
all pennies so I didn’t pick them up at the time ‘are you sure there was not a
quarter in there’ I now said to myself ‘if you get home and it turns out there
was a quarter which could have saved you from this mess you are going to look
like such a fucking idiot! Why do you always have to be so fucking lazy, would it
have been that hard to pick up those coins when they fell? Is your life really
better procrastinating over little shit like that, you are going to look at
them there fifty times and think about picking them up but choose not to, even
though you know picking them up right away only takes a moment. No wonder your
not successful if you waste time like this you fucking loser’ I said to myself.
I
looked in my wallet. I had several one dollar notes and I pulled out the
crispiest of them all, I decided to punish myself for being so stupid with the
coins by wasting the nicest bill in my wallet on a metro card, when it could
have been used on something more fulfilling like a can of Diet Dr Pepper.
I
thought about separating the crisp one dollar bill, and fifty cents into a separate
pocket, so that I wouldn’t forget and accidently spend them - ‘are you really
such a fucking idiot that you can’t remember not to spend your metro ticket
money?’ I said to myself. And felt like a moron for knowing that there was a
possibility that I was that big of an idiot, but then in a moment of optimism
thought ‘no, anytime I see that crisp one now I will be reminded of what an
idiot I was, and I won’t forget not to spend it as long as I remember I am an
idiot’.
I caught the train and got on with my afternoon, and only four or five times
did I think about the 25c fiasco again over the next couple of hours.
Now
it was time to catch the train home. As I pulled out the crisp one dollar to
put in the machine I felt a mixture of self-loathing and pride as I remembered
how it had come to using a bill instead of coins, but then felt good about
myself for not actually accidently spending the dollar. Then, as I walked to
the turn styles disaster nearly happened.
A
huge gust of wind hit me, and my ticket nearly blew out of my hand!
Even
though it did not, I was now forced to consider what I would have done had it
actually blown away. I dealt with the idea of trying to chase after it and
quickly passed on that. Chasing after a ticket blowing in the wind in a train
station would make me look like an idiot, and I did not want to look like an
idiot who couldn’t even hold on to a friggin’ piece paper in front of all of
these strangers.
‘What
if I just didn’t buy another ticket’ I thought ‘my conscience would be clear
because I would know that I had in fact paid the money for a ticket, but then
this lead me to go through the melodrama in my mind of trying to convince a
ticket inspector that I did buy a ticket and that it had just blown out of my
hand, which lead me to spend the entire ride detailing to myself every minuscule
detail of my ticket buying process so if I had to testify to a non-existent
ticket inspector, or even higher authority, about my non-existent lost ticket I
wouldn't forget any detail or stumble in a way that made me seem like I may be
making it up, even though I knew that if I had I actually lost my ticket I
would definitely have purchased a replacement, because I find even the idea of
having to defend a truth I cannot prove to a person in a position of power who
has no reason to believe me nothing short of endlessly excruciating.
In
the middle of all of this ticket buying anguish I was out to check out some car
yards. I need to buy a car so I don’t have to ride the metro, and so I can get
to places the metro doesn’t even go, like almost everywhere in Los Angeles. Fucking
up the purchase of a $1.50 metro card caused me all sorts of anguish today, so
you can only imagine the dilemma buying a car is for me. I was considering
blogging about it but really there is not enough space in cyberspace to fit all
of the little things that I worry about, beat myself up about, and dislike
about the process. Let’s just say I hope to get it done soon, but doubt I will.
By
the way when I got home I did check to see if there was a quarter among the
coins on the floor. There was not. But I still did not pick them up.
