Yeah, so, I did something so stupid and embarrassing on Friday that I debated about whether or not I wanted to write about it, but I can’t keep secrets from you guys.
On Friday night, I met up with good buddies Tiff and DH at Epic Roasthouse. They have a really great happy hour, and we took full advantage of it, ordering many, many drinks and appetizers.
Eventually, it was time to get all our drunk asses home. We decided to hop on the Muni train, which I would ride for one stop to the Embarcadero BART station and then on to Glen Park, and they would hop out down the line to catch whatever bus they need to take them to the other side of the city.
As we got on the train, Tiff and DH swipe their clipper cards (for those who don’t live around here, clipper cards are reloadable smart cards used to pay transit fees). I, however, do not have a clipper card, but I’ve got my $2 in my hand.
Tiff and DH grab a seat.
“I’ll be right back,” I slur. “I need to go the front of the train and pay.”
“Nah, dude, you’re cool,” they said. “Just sit down.”
Me: “Oh, OK.”
At the Embarcadero station, I said my goodbyes and stumbled off the train and up the stairs, where — you probably guessed by now — a transit cop was waiting for me.
“Can I see your ticket, ma’am?”
Me: “I put my money … er, I mean … It’s just that … [sighs] I don’t have a ticket.”
Cop: “License, please.”
I was so fuckin’ embarrassed.
Really, really embarrassed.
I knew I deserved the ticket. I totally deserved it! I was so ashamed of myself. I always pay on Muni. Always. I was going to pay this time. I had the $2 in my right hand. But I didn’t pay because I was drunk, and I wanted a few more minutes to chat with my friends. This is not the first time I drank a bunch of red wine and made poor decisions. That’s pretty much all I did in my 30s. (In my 20s, it was tequila and poor decisions.)
After I signed my ticket, I grabbed it and practically ran to a BART train, hoping to get away from all the people who just saw me act like an asshole and not pay a measly $2 on Muni. Seriously, what a dick I was! I feel like maybe the ticket isn’t enough, and I need to punish myself even more. Maybe I should pay double next time I get on a train? Maybe I should pick up all the trash on the next train I get on? Maybe admitting mistakes in public and opening myself up to comments from readers calling me names is punishment enough.
So now, I have a $103 fare evasion ticket and an overwhelming feeling of shame.
Oh, and by the way, first thing Saturday morning, I went online and ordered a clipper card.