So I work in a hot dog stand in Downtown Pittsburgh. I make and serve... hot dogs... surprising and slightly degrading, yes? But on the up side, I usually make about 30 dollars a day in tips, most of them in single dollar bills. This is great because I usually have cash on hand and in my purse after I'm done with work or the next day. But because I forget about where I put my tips sometimes, my purse becomes and ocean of quarters and one dollar bills, which can be annoying any time I need to find my keys and school ID. So last night I cleaned my purse out and put all of my money into an envelope to be taken to the bank.
Of course the one night that I do something mildly productive and actually clean my purse, it comes back to bite me in the bottom.
So this morning I leave for the trolley stop early so I can get a cup of coffee (my new addiction) before my honors history class. However, today is a special day. It's October 1, 2008. My September bus pass is of no use.
I show the lady devoid of emotion at the fair booth my expired September bus pass. And even though I see her everyday, around the same time, she doesn't let me slide. Just this one time... I had absolutely no money in my pocket, not even a single penny... just an empty pack of gum, my keys, and old compact make-up. I beg with the lady to let me go. I tell her that I'm going to be late for an important class, and still no results.
Do not pass go. Do not collect 200 dollars- This is how I feel today.
I was at the point where I turned around and began to trek back up the broken up sidewalk to the dilapidated and animal feces speckled city stairs. I power walk back to my house and retrieve about five dollars in ones and return back to the station as fast as I can.
But in the distance, I can see the white subway car dragging towards the station in the distance. So out of fear of being late to class, I sprint to the fair booth in my worn out skull decorated flat shoes.
This was a mistake. My flats are now caked in a thin layer of blood in the back, as are my heels.
Luckily though, I was able to cram on to the congested subway car just before it left the station. I stand in the back, grasping on to a cold metal pole. A creepy middle-aged man stares at me from the seat. I pull out my iPod from my pocket, and in doing so, an old bandage wrapper falls on the floor from my pocket. I ignore it initially, thinking that that's what they hire janitors for. And it's not like I spilled a smoothie on the floor or something of that nature.
Still, the creepster point out in an irritated and condecending tone that the miniscule slip of paper is on the floor of his beloved subway car. I grumble and stoop down to pick it up as the car makes a sudden stop, but just as soon as I reach for it, the car shifts forward into motion, and I slip backwards, hard on to my back. My pink bookbag and new purse are now coated in public transportation dirt. In my head, I scream in frustration and glare at the middle-aged man.
Eventually though, I get to school and my history class a few minutes after it began, but without my hot mocha morsel. I now know what it's like to go through caffine withdrawl. I need to stop drinking so much coffee.
I have yet to go home tonight around 9pm, so hopefully things might not be so bad like how they were this morning.