2/5/06
I've been getting free rides into Manhattan to work. I'm just stumbling on them. Granted, these aren't limos with stocked bars and a TV playing Jackie Chan fight montages. These are just the usual rides on the PATH train. Only free. I'm not jumping the turnstiles, I'm just walking right through them and traveling for free.
All the PATH turnstiles have been replaced in the past year or two, so they now take the MetroCards that the New York subways work from. A big green and white screen has been installed above the readers. Swipe a valid card through, and the screen goes pure green for a second. Swipe a MetroCard without enough money on it, or a scrap of a Chinese menu, and the screen goes pure red. Either way, soon after this flash it will revert back to the green and white default screen, but with a small PLEASE ENTER along the bottom of the screen if there's a valid swipe. Most people just spin their way through the turnstile, without glancing at the screen.
I've been glancing, and not just after I've swiped. When I come up to the big bank of turnstiles, I scan as many of the screens as I can. One of them will sometimes be blinking PLEASE ENTER, unattended. People are swiping their cards left and right of this free pass, sometimes swiping at the PLEASE ENTER turnstile, which lets them through but keeps that PLEASE ENTER for the next guy.
I take advantage of this. I walk up to it, PATH card in hand, spin right through, and put away my PATH card unused. Bingo; I'm riding for free.
I don't know where these free swipes are coming from. I'm hoping they're glitches in the computerized turnstile readers: for all I know I'm casting a vote for Bush in Ohio every time I spin through. The swipes could also be from people who have swiped twice; there's probably some OCD guy who likes everything to be in even denominations. A lot of the free passes are in the cash lanes; those might have come from first-time riders who didn't know when to stop feeding the machine dollar bills.
The first couple times I noticed this, I stood by the turnstile for a couple seconds, pondering if I should do this. What if someone swiped their card, then walked 20 feet away to tie their shoe? Or ran back to hold a door open for a little old lady? But there was never anyone who was ever looking expectantly at the turnstile. And asking random passersby if this was their free swipe would be like asking them if this was their free bag of gold doubloons. So I just went through.
This happens about twice a week for me now. During mornings this is hard, since there's a lot of traffic blocking my view of the screens. Coming back in the afternoons is easier; since I usually stick around work for some measure of time after 5:00 P.M., and hit less of a rush at the turnstiles (it also gives me a better shot of a seat once I'm on the train). I got lucky four times in one notable week. I can't remember the last week I haven't gotten a free ride at least once.
My entire life has been filled with luck like this. I think it might have given me some prevalence to not do my due diligence and plan ahead for al events of life. What's the point, when I'll just naturally stumble ass-backwards into good luck that'll fix the situation?
Here's an example of my luck, from just last night. I drove down to south Jersey to see a Tommy production my friend Scott is playing drums for. I should have called and made reservation, or at least emailed Scott to let him know I was coming down. I was lazy, and didn't do that stuff. I just got in the car and drove south, hoping I wouldn't be seeing Scott's understudy.
I get there late. It was being performed at the theater in Mercer County Community College, which I hadn't been to before. I had given myself 10 minutes to navigate the always-confusing jumble of parking lots and buildings at a new college. I should have given myself 15. So I pop in the door of the theater at 8:05, gasping for breathing, hoping not to have missed anything.
Nope, good luck: the show hasn't started yet. There's a line of 30 people snaking through the lobby, all hoping to grab last minute tickets along with me. I'm there for five minute, curious that the line hasn't moved at all, when there's an announcement that the show's sold out. There might be some scattered tickets, but only the first few people in line are going to get a shot at them. Everyone else ought to just go home, or try the matinee tomorrow.
Good luck strikes again, because right now is when Scott pokes his head out the door with his freshly-dyed purple-and-green hair, to see if he knows anyone in line. He spots me at the very end of the line, and says he'll see if he can finagle something. He comes back to me a minute later with a scheme. The titular Tommy makes his big entrance in this production while jumping up in the middle of the audience, and then climbing on stage. That seat goes unused for the rest of the production, and hasn't been sold. I'll have to stand in the aisle for the first act, but I can slip into Tommy's Tommy seat come intermission. Sounds good to me, so we go into the theater, bypassing the ticket booth.
Good luck strikes again, since I don't even need to stand for the first act. A minute into the overture, a woman says that she prefers standing in the aisle, and insists that I take her seat. I say I've got something lined up for the second act, but she insists. It's hard to get to the seat from the stage left part of the house I'm at, but she leads me back through the lobby, up the steps to the stage right section. There's seven or eight seats between the aisle and my seat, but coincidentally the seven or eight people who are even later to this show than me have their empty seats lined up like an airport runway. I follow the empty seats to the end, sit down in my newfound seat, and realize it's about eight rows back, dead center. The Tommy performance is incredible: real high energy. As I'm watching it, I realize I'm in the best seat in the house, at a sold out show I had no ticket for, and I haven't even paid.
This happens to me all the time. What do I do to deserve this luck? I've never rescued a single kitten from a tree, saved a nun from drowning or pulled a baby from a burning building. I'd like there to be some working mother who can barely make ends meet who finds these inadvertent jackpots. But it's always just me around when fate's slot machine hits BAR BAR BAR, so I take the winnings for myself.
There's a tiny chance fate is repaying me, at least in terms of the PATH rides. A couple years ago, I had a PATH card with 19 swipes on it that was due to expire. I had bought the 20-ride card with the thought that I'd be visiting Manhattan a lot. PATH cards are good for about six months after purchase. This time frame is no problem for regular commuters, but my job at the time was in New Jersey, so I only took the PATH train on the rare personal trip into Manhattan. I hadn't been doing that lately, so the card was about to expire, unused.
At 11:30 that night, I walked from home to the PATH turnstiles. I ran the card through one reader, then another, going down the line. When every machine was paid up in one bank, I moved over to the other bank. When I was done with that, half the turnstiles had been spun by people who lucked into free rides. I always thought the PATH was empty at this time of night, but there was a good traffic passing through. So I ran them through again until the card was out.
This wasn't me being a nice guy so much as me not wanting to see anything go to waste. If I had some reason to ride the PATH 19 times that day, you bet your hiney I would have used them all for myself. But I didn't, and didn't want to see the money go to waste. I did the only thing that would get the trips used. I there were a couple working mothers in the group that got the free rides, although based on the average population at the PATH station at that time of night, the only thing people are working on is cirrhosis.
I haven't counted how many free rides I've gotten so far, but it might be in the neighborhood of 19. The machines could have just been paying it forward, to the one guy they're logically not supposed to be paying it forward to. Or someone's sneaking ahead of me and prepaying my way on random days when I leave work. But that ventures into a weird mix of benevolence and conspiracy: does it count as paranoia when a network of strangers are scheming just to make you feel warm and fuzzy?
Luck is largely a case of perception. Winning the lottery and getting hit by lightning are the two extreme ends, but all the stuff in the middle can be seen both ways. I've been in a few car crashes in my life. I could see that as bad luck. But I see it as good luck, since no one's ever been hurt in them.
I could view this PATH situation as bad luck, if I had a negative outlook on life. For every instance I go through for free, I've got plenty of times when I have to pay. I feel bad because the beneficiary of this 'luck' is a guy who spends more on graphic novels in a year than most people in the world live on in the year. And what the hell sort of good luck manifests itself through me saving a measly $1.20? How about finding a ticket to a cruise around the world?
But I'm a positive guy, for the most part, so I see this as random sprinkling of good luck it probably is. Maybe everybody gets these sorts of happenings. How they're seen is more of a reflection of who you are than the events that transpire. It doesn't take too much of an imaginary stretch to see the life of a guy who's been in multiple car accidents and then gets a free 20-minute train ride as something less than blessed. But I choose to see my life as fundamentally lucky, and most everything in my life fits in that perspective.
I'll revamp this disgustingly giddy Pollyanna glass-half-full view of life once I get struck my lightning. But if it hits me while I'm at the PATH, I bet that turnstile's going to spin for free.