Monday, April 26, 2010

limited

Now that I no longer have to take the subway to work, I have stopped purchasing "unlimited" monthly subway passes. And though I thought I would subsequently feel chipper and cheery about now saving a good chunk of money each month, I've actually found myself feeling sort of ... deflated, even heartbroken.

A good friend of mine once described the relationship between a New York young person and an unlimited subway card as the best kind of relationship you could have: the card never lets you down, and it's always ready to offer that empowering/encouraging "go" right when you need it most. What more could you ask for, riiiiight? And now, without it, I feel kind of emotionally isolated! About once a week, I have to buy a pass for a specified number of rides (with each ride I then take ticking off $2.25), which has made me way pickier about what merits a leaving-the-apartment event. Do I really need to waste two rides on a boring doctor's appointment? (No.) Do I really need to spend $4.50 so I can go buy new jeans in Soho? (Yes.)

My break-up with unlimited passes also means that gaffes I made with embarrassing frequency before but was somehow able to justify because they didn't cost me anything (getting off 34th St. instead of 14th St., swiping in for the downtown train when I'm heading uptown) now come with financial penalties and feelings of private shame. And there is nothing worse than ramming into the turnstyle's motionless bar and then looking down to see a flashing "Insufficient Fare" signal. Like George Clooney when he found out Vera Farmiga had a family, or any other young tyke who realizes love is more complicated than candy and rhymes, I wince and recoil... and then walk over to the machine and sign up for the cycle all over again.

No comments: