Margi

i just walked into my mother's house fifteen minutes ago with happy anticipation of spending some quality time with family and old high school friends. But before then, I just want to give a "shout-out" to my new friend Margi, the toll collector on the New Jersey Turnpike at the Pennsylvania turnpike exit. She works in booth number 6, looks about middle-aged (I would say about 50ish), slightly round around the hips, blond hair that falls about chin length, and has the voice of a dying hyena.

I pull up. Three dollars and ten cents was my fee and three dollars and ten cents is exactly what I gave her. She looks at me and screeches, "I don't want your pennies!!!" in that dying hyena voice of hers. I was a little taken back and stammered out an, "excuse me?" She yelps again, "I don't want your pennies!!!" And in the most reasonable manner (because I am a reasonable and well-mannered woman by nature), I explain to her that by law she has to take my money because ten pennies are still a valid form of American currency and the last time I checked, Pennsylvania was still part of the America I know and love. "Well I don't care what the law says. I'm not taking your pennies. No one wants pennies!!! And if you don't have more money, I can write you a slip that says you didn't have enough money." And in perfect compusure I responded, "Look #$%@^$#W%, this is #$@#$#@%# rediculus. I have the right amount! I!@#!@$!@ and !@##%@#$." And at this point, I'm so angry that my pigtails are flapping all over the place.

In the end, I'm afraid I lost and ended up driving away with ninety cents in my pocket. Margi, you may have won this time but I drive down to Philly quite often and I'm saving up my pennies. dun dun duuunnnn....