Shorn.  Also, I’ve had this strange thing happen. Two days ago I went to an MTA kiosk to buy a Metrocard. I inserted my debit card, lowered my hand to the keypad to enter my PIN, and froze: I couldn’t remember it. I tried a few strings of numbers that seemed right, but nothing worked. It was temporarily gone. But I tried not to freak out too much because I figured it’d come back to me within an hour.  It didn’t. The next day, I went a back to the MTA kiosk and I still couldn’t remember it. I went to my bank ATM, thinking that maybe the more familiar keypad would help me to drudge up the muscle memory. This also did not work.  My PIN number has vanished from my brain. I had it for like 10 years! Meanwhile, I can remember the address of the first house my family lived in, my dad’s work phone number from 15 years ago, the years in which all my grandparents were born, the security alarm code from an old job, the number of tablespoons in a cup and a half, and the rule that the digits in multiples of nine always add up to a factor of nine (9 x 9 = 81; 8 + 1 = 9). But my PIN! I don’t know what happened to my PIN. I had to go to the bank and ask for a new one. They were nice about, though I got a funny look—but mostly because I look like Chris Farley on my driver’s license. When I left the barber shop, I walked slowly and stopped half a block away to look up an address. In the meantime, the shop owner had come up from behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Hi,” he said, “Um, did you leave without settling up?” Oh my god, did I walk out of my favorite barber shop and not pay anyone—no, it couldn’t be. I checked my wallet, whew, I did pay (and he verified it). Jesus Christ, though. What movie is this? Memento?

Shorn. 

Also, I’ve had this strange thing happen. Two days ago I went to an MTA kiosk to buy a Metrocard. I inserted my debit card, lowered my hand to the keypad to enter my PIN, and froze: I couldn’t remember it. I tried a few strings of numbers that seemed right, but nothing worked. It was temporarily gone. But I tried not to freak out too much because I figured it’d come back to me within an hour. 

It didn’t. The next day, I went a back to the MTA kiosk and I still couldn’t remember it. I went to my bank ATM, thinking that maybe the more familiar keypad would help me to drudge up the muscle memory. This also did not work. 

My PIN number has vanished from my brain. I had it for like 10 years! Meanwhile, I can remember the address of the first house my family lived in, my dad’s work phone number from 15 years ago, the years in which all my grandparents were born, the security alarm code from an old job, the number of tablespoons in a cup and a half, and the rule that the digits in multiples of nine always add up to a factor of nine (9 x 9 = 81; 8 + 1 = 9).

But my PIN! I don’t know what happened to my PIN. I had to go to the bank and ask for a new one. They were nice about, though I got a funny look—but mostly because I look like Chris Farley on my driver’s license.

When I left the barber shop, I walked slowly and stopped half a block away to look up an address. In the meantime, the shop owner had come up from behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Hi,” he said, “Um, did you leave without settling up?” Oh my god, did I walk out of my favorite barber shop and not pay anyone—no, it couldn’t be. I checked my wallet, whew, I did pay (and he verified it).

Jesus Christ, though. What movie is this? Memento?

Notes

  1. colinfitzpatrick said: I have totally done that
  2. nervousacid said: Dapper!
  3. thanksforsharing posted this