The holidays have depleted my cash reserve- not that it was all that much to begin with. A Christmas gift from the boss was a gift card to a local theatre. The amount was more than what two people could spend. I decided to do my 'good deed for the day' (that should go on my goals list - a good deed everyday) so I invited several friends to go with us. I was afraid the gift card was only a one-time use and didn't want to miss an opportunity.

I dropped in my purse a can of soda and several granola bars ( I know, I know) they are so expensive in the theatre and the granola bars help me achieve my goals for the new year. My friends can use their own money to buy popcorn and soda at the concessionare stand.

We strolll casually up to the ticket window and I produce my little red envelope and pass it through the half- moon opening. The sun is glaring on the glass window and all I see is a shadow - no face. The faceless girl says "I need the card."
I reply, "What card?"
"I cannot process this transaction without the card it has the verification numbers on it."
"I don't have the card, just this envelope."
"Sorry, I need the card."

I begin the search through my purse being very careful she doesn't see my contraband and confiscate it. I remove two wallets, cell phone, old grocery store receipts, a winter hat, a half chewed rawhide dog toy and seeds gathered from that palm tree I adored in the park. The natives behind me are growing impatient so I step aside to continue the search. Hubby tries to help with the mission and pulls out my can of soda. I try to grab it back and place it indiscreetly in my zipper compartment. It slips from my grip and crashes onto the pavement. Splush!! It spurts diet soda all over. I look at the tinted window but cannot tell if the faceless person can see my disaster.

The card is not anywhere in my possesion. What would I have done with that all important card? Why would I have removed it from the envelope? Then, the light, ever so dim flashes inside my head. The card had the website printed on the back and I looked up the showtimes on the computer. Very clearly the dim light flashing inside my head shows the card sitting right next to my gel infused mouse pad - AT HOME.

There is one showing today for this movie and we traveled on a busy highway for an hour to get here. No chance of returning home and no chance of asking my invited guest to pay their own way. I move into another line feeling the guilt of contraband tugging at my insides. I pull out my credit card and cringe. My hands are sticky with soda. I pass it through the half-moon shaped opening to another faceless person.