With a smile on my face, I approach the ticket vending machine and print my one-time use ticket. It’s free, of course. I just have to answer a quick survey about the products I use, which ads I recall seeing recently, and a CAPTCHA to make sure I’m a human who is able to buy things. I grab my ticket and try to walk through the turnstile, but it doesn’t budge. I laugh to myself and take off my headphones and the bar lets me through. Listening to music is forbidden since it blocks out the jingles and lowers brand interaction.

I walk down the steps and naturally the train is there. They’re never late like they were back in the old days. Sadly, I can’t get on this train since it’s only for Apple iPhone 7 users and I only have a 6s Plus. I check the video screen and see a Twizzlers train will be here in just a minute, so I’m not worried. I rest my eyes for a second before I’m jabbed in the back by a Customer Experience agent. I apologize and engage with all of the logos and slogans covering every square inch of the platform. I even look into the tracks to see the rats. They’ve all got tiny mattresses on their backs this week. Casper ads are always so fun. In fact, everything has been so fun since the MTA was sold to a group of conglomerates earlier this year.

The Twizzlers train pulls up, I swipe my credit card so it can confirm I’ve purchased the candy within 30 days, the doors open and I hop on. The conductor gets on the intercom to let us know the next stop will be Sbarro’s Place, but if we can crowdsource $20 via the new MTA app, it will run express. After a few seconds the conductor confirms we’ve raised the money and announces the train will run express to Sbarro’s Avenue. Those needing to go to Sbarro’s Place, Sbarro’s Street, Sbarro’s Circle shuffle back out onto the platform.

The train takes off so smoothly you’d think the tracks were covered in I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter, and they are since they outbid Land O’Lakes for the contract. I step aside as a group of guys yell, “Showtime!” They tell everyone about the newest season of Homeland and Billions, but I decline their pamphlet. I prefer Starz.

At Sbarro’s Avenue an MTA executive gets on board. I know he’s an exec because he announces it as he pushes some kid on crutches out of the way. A pregnant woman gives up her seat to him. That’s an unwritten rule for the new MTA, like how you let people off before getting on, you avoid eye contact with others, and by saying anything out loud, you grant ownership of the words and ideas to the MTA and its subsidiaries. Apparently some woman blurted out a good premise for a movie last week and one of the MTA’s partners already has it in pre-production. I feel a little bad for the woman, but I can’t wait for it to come out.

I get off at Sbarro’s Square to make a transfer. There, a policeman searches my bag to make sure it doesn’t contain any weapons, and that it does contain at least three Unilever products. The cop tells me I passed the inspection and reminds me, “If you see something, buy something.” Sadly, the man next to me only has two products. He’s immediately classified as a sick passenger and sent to spend a night in MTAlcatraz, the private prison for dissidents. Some people say the policies are too Draconian, but at least they’re not Cuomonian. Apparently in the terrible old days, the governor said people should just drive cars to make the subway better. What insanity!

A Mountain Dew© Kickstart™ Midnight Grape train takes me crosstown after I prove I’ve Liked their Facebook page. I check the clock inside the subway car and see I’ll be five minutes early to work, just like every day I ride with the new MTA. An automated announcement reminds me that just a year ago a person would be lucky to survive a commute, let alone be early, and that Mountain Dew© Kickstart™ Midnight Grape is the only energy drink made with real grapes in mind.

I get off at Sbarro’s Center, walk up the immaculately clean stairs, and exit onto the wonderful streets of New York City. Finally this amazing city has an amazing subway system to match it, and at absolutely no cost! A rat pops out of a gutter and scampers over my shoes. I smile, pull out my phone, and order a $950 Casper mattress.