Tuesday, March 19, 2013

The Ticket Holder

They were my tickets. I had bought a pair of seasons for three years in a row. Of course I'd gotten divorced after the first year so I went to a lot of games alone, but once in a while I'd invited a random friend who might accept a night in my company.

Then they ran a contest between periods, and my seat was called. Actually, Steve's seat was called. It was an instantaneous reaction. I'd bought it, it was my seat. The only reason he was sitting in it was by my benevolence. So obviously, I should be the one playing in the contest, one which would end with one of four spectators winning a new car!

I took the ticket stub without argument and made my way to the ice. And all the way I felt miserable. I was a fraud, a cheat. All that crap I'd always preached about honesty and fairness and "doing the right thing" had just been tossed aside for a stupid chance to win a stupid car.

I lost. Of course. I was almost relieved. Had I won I would have had to sell the thing and at least split the money with my friend, who by all rights would have been the winner had I not been so manipulatively selfish. Or at least that's what I told myself all the while I was waiting to see if I were the winner. I have to wonder if I'd have honored my own secret, self made promise.

Nothing is simple in my world. Every breath has consequences.

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