Crazies

I stopped at the doors near the ticketbooth to rifle through my bag in search of change for a train ticket, and found that I had nothing. Regardless of how I tried, I was always short $1.30. What, you ask, do you do when you're short $1.30 and can't get home? Call your mom.

"I don't have any change," she said, "No, wait. I have two dollars. See you in a few minutes." I love my mom. However, just as I hung up, a man ran into the room, noticed the mass exodus of people moving toward the trains and immediately approached me.

"Where are they going?" he shouted, his face much too close to mine, "You've got to give me a ticket!"

"Sorry, I can't help you," I said, emptying my wallet of its contents: miscellaneous identification cards and a hastily scribbled note explaining that I still owe Kathy $11. "The ticket booths are over there."

"But I need a ticket!" he screamed, rushing over to harass the people standing in line for tickets. "So do we. That's why we're standing in line," someone explained, but it's hard to explain things in rational terms to people who are themselves completely irrational. "But how much does it cost?" he shouted, "I have a bus pass!"

"Depends on where you're going," someone else said.

"The first stop!" he screamed, becoming even more agitated.

"The first stop is Port Moody. It's going to cost you $6," the transit attendant said as she approached.

"But I have a bus pass!"

And then the uniforms arrived and took him aside, and I never saw him again. I wonder where they went.