That’s it folks, I’m self-diagnosing. I’ve been in MetroCard Damage Grief for the past couple of days, and as of 9:00 this morning I’ve finally reached acceptance.
For reference, the 5 stages of grief, or DABDA, per Kubler-Ross, are:
Denial | Anger | Bargaining | Depression | Acceptance
Monday morning I made the bold, smart, and “economic” decision to purchase a 30-day unlimited MetroCard; why I’ve never bought it month-to-month before I don’t know. Everything was fine Monday, round-trip from the 238th Street 1 Train station, no problem.
Then it was suddenly D-Day, or Tuesday, when I went to swipe at the 242nd Street Station and saw the dreaded “Please Swipe Again”.
As a New Yorker, that is the worst message to see on the little screen. Why?
Well because it means you swiped too fast moron and you may as well be like every other tourist in our city, you foreigner! It takes the right swing of the wrist to get through and it’s innate in us New Yorkers. For me though, this D-Day, the message repeated with every swipe… the horror! Holding up the line during rush hour? Amateur!
Cue Denial, “this is NOT happening, not to me, not now!”
Followed very quickly by Anger, “are you EFFING kidding me? I just bought this card YESTERDAY!” And then Bargaining, with the station agent, wishing and hoping he could conjure up some amazing spell that would re-magnetize the magnetic particles that have clearly gone to shit.
Of course he’s no Hermione Granger, so he told me he’d let me through for free, passed me a dreaded envelope to return the $104 30-day unlimited, and told me I’d need to BUY ANOTHER in the meantime!? I mean… trigger some more Anger why don’t ya!
Do I look like your personal piggy bank MTA?
I think at that point I may have gone back to Denial and/or I was in Denial the entire time because I decided to give it another go last night on my way home. I even went home and consequently starting Bargaining again, Googling ways to “re-magnetize my MetroCard”. In one last attempt I took someone’s advice from my research and swiped it with a plastic bag this morning; what an optimist huh?
To no avail, the station agent let me through again and passed me another envelope — cue my very short-lived Depression, I had to give in to the MTA.
Upon arriving at work I filled out the paperwork, dropped in the MetroCard and sealed it with a kiss.
My grieving is complete. I’ve reached ACCEPTANCE people, acceptance.