dys· phem· is· tic Wednesday, February 18, 2004
On Phantom Toll-Booths
You know those dreams where you're at work and suddenly realize you forgot to put on pants this morning -- the Worst-Possible-Scenario dream? Well, transpose that over to taking the tollway to work and you've got my commute this morning. Running late, as usual, I took the Sam Houston Tollway to speed things up. The toll is $1.25 when you exit from I-10 and I don't have an "E-Z Tag" yet because I don't take the tollway all the time. So I buzz up to the robot toll booth and toss in my handful of dimes and quarters... Nothing. Please deposit $1.25, the display says. The gate is immobile and cars are lining up behind my minivan.
Arms are are flailing in disgust at my stupidity in the long line of anxious autos as I go through my ashtray for more change. No pennies allowed. Do I have enough? What do you do when you get stuck like this, anyway? There's no panic button. At least I hit the receipt switch so I have proof my first $1.25 was truly paid.
Finally, just as I have the required amount -- mostly in nickels -- and a second payment is leaving my palm for the toll receptacle, the guy in the white SUV yells that the gate has opened! The machine devours my change again, acknowledges it this time, and I speed away as fast as I can so I don't have to look any of my fellow commuters in the eye. The rest of the way to work I wonder: "Was this some sort of Texas scam to make me double my toll? Do they randomly refuse to open the gates on toll roads all over the state just to collect a little extra money?"
But I'll be back tomorrow.
Arms are are flailing in disgust at my stupidity in the long line of anxious autos as I go through my ashtray for more change. No pennies allowed. Do I have enough? What do you do when you get stuck like this, anyway? There's no panic button. At least I hit the receipt switch so I have proof my first $1.25 was truly paid.
Finally, just as I have the required amount -- mostly in nickels -- and a second payment is leaving my palm for the toll receptacle, the guy in the white SUV yells that the gate has opened! The machine devours my change again, acknowledges it this time, and I speed away as fast as I can so I don't have to look any of my fellow commuters in the eye. The rest of the way to work I wonder: "Was this some sort of Texas scam to make me double my toll? Do they randomly refuse to open the gates on toll roads all over the state just to collect a little extra money?"
But I'll be back tomorrow.
