Trauma at a Tollbooth

By Robert Feinstein

Alex Morgan was still defiant. "That urban legend has been around for a hundred years, but I did it. I really did it," he said. "Give me credit. It took a lot of guts, and that ought to count for a lot.'

"I'm telling you to lose the smugness," answered Casey. 'You are going to face the dean this afternoon. You already know Dr. Walker is nobody to fritter with, and he will be considerably angry. I think the whole faculty is, and a lot of the students are too. Nobody thinks of you as a hero, and if you go in there with that attitude, it will be over for you. You'll be toast. Even if you don't feel it, try to act contrite. Don't you realize it? Your whole damned future is at stake. All that work you did will have been for nothing. Tell him you're sorry, but let Walker do most of the talking.”

"I wanted you to be there with me. I wanted you to film it. It was awesome," Morgan replied, with his voice and gestures at once indicating both disappointment and pride.

Casey shook his head, left to right, and dismissively smiled, "There was no chance in hell that I'd ever be part of it. What you did was way out of my league."

He then grew curious. "You had that thing for three days, until finals were over. I can guess, but I'm sort of afraid to ask this. Where the hell did you keep it?"

"In my freezer, of course," replied Morgan, Next to a quart of ice cream."

The meeting was set for 1:00PM and Morgan arrived ten minutes early, but the secretary did not usher him into Dr. Walker's office until almost 1:30. Morgan was by then quite nervous and did not need to be reminded of Casey's admonition. He no longer had even a trace of bravado. And he was not expecting Dr. Aronoff, his gross anatomy professor, to be there too. But that should not have been surprising, considering what had transpired. Dr. Aronoff had a vested interest.

Dr. Walker's complexion was ordinarily ruddy, but his face was even more crimson than usual. His opening salvo was: "Where the hell do you come off pulling a vicious stunt like that?" He glared at Morgan with an intensity that revealed unmistakable rage and contempt.

Now it was Dr. Aronoff's turn, but his tone and demeaner reflected sadness, rather than anger. "They're not all from the homeless and indigent, you know. They're not all people without families and friends. Many unselfishly donate them, because they want to do something useful after they're gone."

"It's amazing that you didn't do any jail time over this," Dr. Walker continued. "You are ever so lucky that Mr. Ligori, the tollbooth guy, only fainted. The poor fellow was just doing his job, collecting the tunnel fares. He has a monotonous and unhealthy career, what with all the exhaust fumes he inhales. And when you dropped it in front of him, he could have had a coronary. It might have been manslaughter. This Mr. Ligori, he is a most compassionate man. You are so fortunate that he didn't press charges, and that he decided to forgive you. He could have hit you with one hell of a lawsuit. And you should also be damned thankful that you won't be prosecuted for theft. I hope we made the riight decision, in that regard."

Dr. Walker quickly gave Morgan the decision, which was mixed news. "We will take you back, because some of us think you may yet make a good doctor. But you are out for a year. When you return, the tuition is going to be higher. That's a certainty. And there's a mandatory proviso: Within the next two days, you will write a note to Mr. Ligori, expressing both your apology and thanks. You will give it to my secretary, Mrs. Taylor, and I will send it along to him. For a lot of reasons, I don't want you to have direct contact with that traumatized gentleman.”

Then it was Dr. Aronoff's turn: "We trust there will be no repetition of what you did, but next year you are going to have to take my class again. I'm failing you in the course. Anybody who would put a right arm and hand through a left shirt sleeve, has a clearly deficient knowledge of human anatomy!"