Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by. I was immediately mugged, thanks to famous and “extraordinary” poet, Robert Frost.
The first thing I can remember is being stuck in a yellow wood, standing in front of two diverging roads. Two unmarked roads leading to unknown destinations that appeared out of nowhere—not unlike like the hooded figure waiting in the shadows of the road I took. The one who pulled a knife on me and stole my iPhone 6, as a result of my foolish mistake of taking the advice of early to mid-nineteenth century hack Robert Frost.
Mr. Frost does not even once mention where these roads lead to in his famous poem, The Road Not Taken. Who designed this? Do forests have urban planners? Is it really too much to ask for simple road signs so that travelers know where each one leads? Perhaps Mr. Frost should have put more thought into the difficulties of traveling through a yellow wood before penning his so called poetry.
My first clue should have been looking at the two roads. Let’s do a quick checklist of what each road had.
Good Road: Lots of people.
Bad Road: Literally just one person (who turned out to be a mugger).
Good Road: 2 Starbuckses.
Bad Road: Not a single place to get good coffee or free WiFi.
Good Road: Live music and street performers.
Bad Road: A guy with a knife who did not even attempt to swallow it or breath fire.
In my right mind, I would have picked the road more traveled by. But instead, I took the advice of long dead farce-poet Robert Frost. In an attempt to make sure that no one makes the same horrible mistake that I did, I have take decided to rewrite The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost.
The Road Not Taken
By Robert Frost (with contributions from Jeremy Kaplowitz)
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Take the road that won’t endanger your life.
It’s lots more fun and no one will hurt you.
I took the other one and was threatened with a knife.
Poets should warn readers of the perils of night.
Always remember to travel in groups.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
Please do not make the same mistakes that I have made since.
Ya know, because I was mugged.