Dear Tollroad Idiot

I should have known when I got in the Exact Change tollbooth lane and you were clearly looking all around your car for change. Your head was bobbing up and down and left and right as you searched every nook and cranny of that stupid maroon sedan (I think it was a Taurus) for any nickel or dime you may have dropped between the seats during your last late-night McDonalds drive-thru run.

My instinct was to drive around you, since you were leaving about 6 car lengths between you and the car in front of you. Your efforts to stall for more time were a sign that you were going to make my morning hellish, and I should have listened to my internal alarms and passed you right there before the tollbooth.

But I didn't.

I waited in line, like a good little tollroad driver. And when you got to the coin drop, and only threw in a couple coins, and the light didn't turn green, that's when I knew for sure I didn't like you.

And when you went back to your searching and finally grabbed some random coins (I'm assuming pennies, or you'd have used them the first time) and tossed them in the direction of the coin drop, and only about 20% of the coins made it in but you weren't concerned enough to pick up the ones that missed (which strengthens my penny assumption, since you knew the pennies weren't going to actually make a difference anyway), that's when I knew that I loathed you.

And after I gave a polite honk to tell you to just go through and accept that you're going to get a ticket in the mail for being unprepared, going in the Exact Change lane when you obviously should have chosen a Full Service lane, and subsequently ruining all our lives, that's when you decided to inch forward and try to talk with the police officer by the next tollbooth over. You still wouldn't get out of the way and let the ever-growing line of cars behind you in the only open Exact Change lane pay the toll with their exact change and get on their merry way!

Cue my visions of Fried Green Tomatoes.

So I gave another polite honk, even though I wanted to lay on that horn with all the fury of a thousand suns, and then tear my door off and throw it at your car. But still you inched forward, finally reaching the point that the bell went off telling everyone that you'd just driven through without paying.

However, I don't think you were far enough forward for the camera to catch your license plate yet. And still you inched forward, still trying to get the cop's attention, but he wasn't interested in helping you (I'm guessing because he could smell the stench of your ineptitude emanating from your open passenger-side window.

Once you'd pulled forward enough that I could advance, I pulled up to pay my toll. Elated to leave you behind to sort out with the law your incompetence and whether you should be allowed behind the wheel of an automobile.

Can you say "revoked license?"

I gave you a few extra seconds and let you move 5 more feet, and then I threw in my three quarters (note: exact change, as required by this lane), paused for the green light, and then pulled forward.

And as I did so, I heard that bell go off, and my utter hatred for you was cemented, tollroad idiot. If I get a ticket in the mail as a result of your screwing up the tollbooth system and my toll not registering (even though the light went green), I will wish upon you even fouler things than are currently germinating in my mind. Let's just hope it doesn't come to this. In the meantime, please learn to observe signs, get in the correct lane, be prepared, and generally pull your head out of your rectal cavity.

Sincerely,

Aaron