My Finest moment of the day

I heard the rumble of the Manhattan-bound R train below ground as I approached the station. I whipped out my Metro card and started bounding down the 30 or so stairs to the turnstiles, trying not to tumble headlong and end up in traction. Not surprisingly, a woman in perilously high heels was cautiously edging her way down ahead of me, holding on to the bannister for dear life and blocking me from making a full court press. I thought about saying "bitch, get out of my way," but there was not a moment to lose.

I got to the turnstile as passengers poured out. I used my aggressive native New Yorker skills to check approaching exiters. The doors to the train stayed open, like in the movies when someone has to get on a train to escape danger. I quickly swiped my card and pushed the turnstile arm. Beep! PLEASE SWIPE AGAIN. Damnit. A second later I swiped again. Beep! PLEASE SWIPE AGAIN. Fuck! The doors closed. PLEASE SWIPE AGAIN. PLEASE SWIPE AGAIN. PLEASE SWIPE AGAIN.

The station emptied out, the train shut its doors and pulled out, and I stood there, swiping and cursing. Two NYPD cops exited through the next turnstile. One cop was a short, stocky, Latina. She saw my frustration and asked if she could help.

"My...it's...unlimited...Metrocard...I can't" I whined. She took the card from my hand, and facing me, she swiped the card backhanded.

The display said GO.

"Thank you," I said. "How'd you do that?"

She smiled at me in kind of a flirty way. "Sometimes," she said, "you just gotta put everything into it."