Alana R. Sacriponte: 'The 8-Second Exchange' on the Pennsylvania Turnpike

As a graduate student looking for a summer job, my mom suggested I apply to the Pennsylvania Turnpike. I considered it odd at first. It was 2008 and cash had lost much of its prevalence already. Did people still carry coins? Didn’t everyone use EZPass? I took my mom’s suggestion, though, and I got the job as a toll collector at the Allegheny Valley interchange.

Cell phones existed of course, but you weren’t allowed to use them while working. My new co-workers, some of whom had been working “the Pike” for decades, recommended I bring a book or crossword puzzle. One woman — a legend — could complete the New York Times crossword in less than a half-hour.

I took their advice, and I also decided to bring a notebook. Writing with pen and paper was not yet as foreign as it feels today. I filled it with thoughts, notes and encounters from the tollbooth that summer, an experience I would later call “The 8-Second Exchange.”

“The 8-Second Exchange” happened every time a car pulled up to my booth. I had never actually thought about all that could happen in 8 seconds, but my summer full of these exchanges seemed to last a lifetime. I was having face-to-face encounters with people at the speed of today’s Tinder swiping.

In my two-month tenure on the Pike, I was asked out on three dates; I had one marriage proposal; I was given religious materials to join at least four different churches; and I was mooned twice. Fourteen kisses were blown my way, eight dogs barked at me and five middle fingers flipped me off. I got a number of compliments and one batch of cookies. I was cursed at for not giving change quickly enough, but I also received many blessings from God.

From Volvos to pick-up trucks, the drivers always surprised me. Every shift was exciting. There were some long evening hours of waiting, but there was always something memorable.

I began to notice how people approached the booth. Some would have their money ready in hand; others searched for coins in the ashtray with music blasting. Some people would come with big smiles and not rush the moment, as if maybe this was the only interaction they had with another person that day. Most came barreling through, though, avoiding any eye contact. It was easy to see the kind of day people were having by how they said hello. Some said thank you and some didn’t.

People cried and swore when they lost their ticket and had to pay the full fare. They always ended up telling me the reason they lost it, and it was always something unexpected. I could see the joy in people during evening rush hour coming home from work, especially on Fridays. I felt connected to people without even knowing them. I got nervous about shorting them money. Once someone drove back to the parking lot to return the extra money I accidentally gave them in an envelope marked “Lane 3” with a smiley face written in purple pen.

The news about the Pennsylvania Turnpike going cashless teleported me back to the summer of 2008. I think the isolation from the covid-19 pandemic has me longing for face-to-face encounters with other human beings — even if just for a few seconds.

The tollbooth showed me our true diversity as human beings in daily life, and for that I am grateful. You never know what memories can be made in just a few seconds. It’s the end of an era for the Pennsylvania Turnpike, and a great reminder to take notice of our 8-second exchanges, wherever they may happen.

Alana R. Sacriponte is a Lower Burrell native living in Rome, where she is assistant director of Duquesne University’s Rome Campus.