It sliced through all of us like the blade of a knife that had just been sharpened a mere moment before…that word. Sure we’ve heard it; perhaps we’ve even been guilty of saying it, but it would appear certain that the guy in this story had it stored up in his arsenal (among some serious issues and self-control problems, which you’ll come to see). I say this because in thinking back to the bizarre scenario, I think it’s only safe to say he was insane. With a little bit of an asshole thrown in there.
Monday morning | 7:10 a.m. | Another Week Arrives
The day was typical: a crowded train with commuters piling in by the dozens, all holding false smiles, filled coffee cups and arguably empty souls (some of us). But one thing in common amongst us all — other than the incessant thought of, boy, does this suck — is that we were each gearing up for another week of whatever would come. Yet, no matter what we were planning for, I doubt any of us expected that together we would all endure one of the strangest scenarios of our lives, leaving us with a truewhat the fuck just happened kind of feeling.
You see, of all the NJ Transit workers I’ve encountered, there’s one woman who prides herself on her by-the-book techniques. Of course, some might appreciate it, but my guess is that the majority lies in those who believe her methods to be somewhat irritating. Bluntly stated, she’s a little bit of a Transit Freak. Perhaps that’s hyperbole, but you understand. Having said that, she still deserves respect, something I thought everyone thought as well. But again, it was only 7:10 a.m. and I had a lot to learn.
Monday morning | 7:15 a.m. | Things Get Interesting
I’m not sure how many of you have commuted on public transportation in the past 20 years (if so, I feel your pain) but the general rule is you purchase a ticket and hand it to the operator as proof of your purchase. Why anyone would question this process, I have no damn clue; it’s pretty much the exact same method for every ticket-related transaction in the world. But I guess some people don’t understand…
“Ticket please, sir,” she said kindly.
“I’m buying a weekly pass at Newark Broad St. I’ll give you the ticket then.”
Mind you, friends, Newark Broad Street was two stops away at this time. So, naturally, you can understand the look of confusion upon the Transit Freak’s face… as well as ours.
“Sir, you’ll need to purchase a ticket now. You can’t get on and buy a ticket at a later stop. It’s not the same price.”
Read the full piece on The Huffington Post.