I was recently exiting the subway when I saw the funniest thing ever. There was a fellow vaulting the turnstile. That’s nothing unusual in New York City, must happen hundreds of times a minute throughout our vast subway system. The thing that was unusual was that the fellow was a well to do white guy in his thirties. Not that only people of color jump the turnstiles, I’ve seen white college girls and white grungy boys do it. Most young people don’t pay.

So, there’s that- a bespectacled, balding thirty-ish white guy in khaki pants, tucked-in pressed oxford shirt and shined dress shoes braces his hands on the deck of the turnstile and prepares to vault. He pushes off with his feet, tucks his legs up, and with a mighty grunt launches himself over the turnstile. Except he doesn’t.

At the apex of his vault, when he should have cleared the turnstile bar, the toes of both feet catch the bar. I know what that’s like, many years ago when I was in the army I had to parachute out of a helicopter. It was my first chopper blast, and I was terrified, so I made a “weak exit,” meaning I didn’t put enough oomph into pushing myself off the deck of the chopper. My toes caught the skid of the Huey, and I pitched headfirst into thin air, instead of feetfirst. A memorable sight.

Fortunately for Mr. Yuppie he didn’t pitch face first onto the hard concrete of the subway platform, he was able to catch himself on the pillar of the turnstile and sprawled awkwardly across the bar. As I passed him, I couldn’t help but to burst out laughing at this tangled pretzel of a human. He might have turned red, but like any New Yorker I was in too much of a hurry to stick around for the whole show.

As a senior citizen I pay half fare, so I’m signed up to pay for a monthly unlimited card. It doesn’t matter if I use the card to buy a ticket to get on the select bus or not, the city still gets its money. I usually do, but don’t if I think I might miss the bus. The times I didn’t get the ticket I would be filled with anxiety about encountering an “EAGLE” team. EAGLE stands for evasion and graffiti lawlessness eradication, you know, those retired police officers in blue windbreakers and ball caps that say MTA on them and ask to see your bus ticket. My guess is they threw in the graffiti to get a catchy sounding acronym. There used to be a lot of them, and the one time I did not have the ticket, which was last fall, they didn’t even bother asking for tickets. Policy changes.

When I was young and penniless, I would often go through the exit door of the subway without paying, waiting for the shout of “PAY YOUR FARE!” to come from the token clerk. I would cringe at the shout, trying to pull my head into my body like a turtle as I scurried away from the door.

Back then plainclothes policemen would hide in the utility rooms near the turnstiles and surprise fare beaters, giving tickets if you had ID and arresting those without ID. Policy now is to look the other way. You can jump the turnstile in front of a cop and most likely they will say nothing. That’s policy for MTA staff, don’t engage with fare beaters. Too many of them have been verbally abused and even assaulted for doing so and the union pushed to protect their people.

COVID broke the back of our transit system. Making the buses free opened the floodgates to mass fare beating. How are you going to keep them down on the farm once they’ve seen Paree?

Some people may not be familiar with that expression, but I trust they can figure it out.

The average working stiff in New York still pays their fare, I know I do. I look with resentment at those that don’t, especially at guys like the pretzel-yuppie who can well afford to. But in the end, there’s nothing I can do about what others choose to do, so why sweat it? After all, it’s none of my business if others pay their fare or not.