Buying A Train Ticket

Headphones jammed in, mind elsewhere, I walk up to uniformed gentleman at station this morning and ask for a ticket. He is a security guard.

There’s no comeback from that. I considered telling him what a great job they were doing, like how he’s out here every day in the shit and the folks back home have no idea what it’s really like. Just – thanks, man.

But no, I said “Single to Paddington”, followed by “Oh, sorry.” and shot a studied look at my iPod like it just swore before walking off in search of singles.

While I’m on the subject, a word in defense of my American cousins. London ticketing staff should probably know by now what tourists want when they ask for a “round trip”. But they still a lot of them give it the “innit” and act like idiots.

“Ere, Mugsy. This Yank came up the other day, asked for a round trip, ‘e bleedin’ did. I only told him to get on the Circle Line. You toilet.”

By the way, I literally have American cousins, so I’m speaking figuratively. You probably didn’t know that, so this recent confusion, despite being of all my own making, should now be clear. Nor am I offering to literally defend my actual American cousins or suggest that they need my help, as they have guns and can probably look after themselves. I apologise for bringing this to light.