The sad truth is that I often keep finding that the world around me has changed without me hardly even noticing. The sadder truth is that this complacence - nay, ignorance - often comes at a consequence. The saddest truth however, is that this consequence usually involves money.

The world changed in that a simple right bend that I have been familiar with since I first grew teeth has been replaced by a wall of hollow blocks that, from my view on the driver's seat, stretched indefinitely. The dearly departed right bend is supposed to work like an expressway exit in that what it essentially did was to get you to the opposite lane in the same way that a u-turn would.

The reason that it worked like an expressway exit is that technically, it is. It used to be something like the last exit before the toll gates, which were still a couple of kilometers away. I figured that since all I needed to make was a u-turn, then I should just keep on going forward and find the next u-turn slot, taking in consideration the indiscriminate proliferation of u-turn slots in the metro. There should be one coming along soon, I though.

I realized that my supposition was flawed when I saw a line of no less than fifteen toll booths coming up. Knowing that I would be needlessly paying toll to take a simple u-turn, I started hearing a clicking noise in the back of my head, which usually happens when I'm beginning to involuntarily channel a rather unfriendly Visigoth who visits me in my nightmares. I was prepared to put on my Visigoth face, never mind my lack of facial hair or the advantageous sanitary disposition that I have over the regular Visigoth (thanks to several centuries of racial evolution). I was furious. I was psychically geared up to invade, pillage and occupy a peaceful French-speaking settlement (the closest one would be a Delifrance branch at a gas station stopover). I was also intent that someone should know just how furious I was. With no one else around, I nominated for the position of Unlucky-Morning-Emotional-Punching-Bag the innocent toll booth attendant. I thought that she couldn't be all that innocent to work for bosses who, though a complicated governmental chain of command, hired the engineers who worked out the rerouting that removed my beloved right turn from the map. With a little bit of luck, she could even be remotely French.

I was, however, at a dilemma. On one hand, I could scream at her in tongues (Visigoth-speak included) about the devious diversion I was forced to take. On the other, I was afraid that doing so would only underscore the reality of the situation: I was an idiot. It was a tricky balance to maintain because I had to lash out at the world in the random manner of a berserker and at the same time retain a considerable amount of self-respect by not calling too much attention to myself (i.e. please casually notice that I'm a pissed off self-respecting non-idiot).

Toll booth lady: Good morning sir! Forty-two pesos please!
Pissed-off self-respecting non-idiot: WHERE CAN I MAKE A U-TURN!?!
Toll booth lady: That will be the Valenzuela exit sir. Here's your change. Thanks and have a safe trip!

Please note that the conversation lasted about twenty seconds, with the toll booth lady putting on a sunny demeanor which a lesser organism would have failed at and a smile that didn't look forced so much as it looked implanted. The government must have put her in a governmental equivalent of charm school in the hope that motorists wouldn't find the ridiculous toll too ridiculous. It worked, in a manner of speaking... A for effort.

Luckily, despite the rains, I was able to drive through that portion of the North Luzon Expressway quite easily. It was, I have to say, the farthest north I've ever driven so far. The Valenzuela exit wasn't as jammed as I remembered it to be, but it still was a good six kilometers from where I should have made a simple right turn.

We've gone one way so far, so here's the math for both ways (please forgive the lack of details for the equally painful return trip): six kilometers times two equals twelve kilometers, while forty-two pesos times two is eighty-four pesos. Noting that I get six to eight kilometers on a thirty-three peso liter of gas, the gas I spent would be around forty-nine fifty to sixty-six pesos.

Toll (both ways): 84 pesos
Gas (both ways): 66 pesos
Government legally robbing you with a smile: Priceless

I spent around a hundred and fifty pesos to make a u-turn that took more than twenty minutes... definitely more than a pissed-off self-respecting non-idiot should. I wonder how a Visigoth would feel about that.

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