City Rail Swallows My Ticket (Part 1)

A Month Of Complaints

This month has not survived on the call of optimism but as fate tends to disclose, this has been a month of composure’s degradation, of uncalled events and of supreme bullshit. How surprised I am that each day yields to me a different adventure, either to fulfill complacency or to bitch and moan as I do now. Just to capitalize on all the irritations, choleric accelerators and wearers of my patience that make it emaciated, with what stupidity shall I begin.

Well, firstly, to begin with the obvious, how I hate City rail for raising the ticket prices despite having more than four huge fuck ups in the last couple of months. They don’t deserve to gain more money out of our woes and even still, all the extra money they gain goes to their expenses so they never win out. The haughty arrogance of City Rail after placing in their new ticket gates has been synonymous with every patience wearing encounter I’ve ever had the liability to bear.

Sure enough, my missing the train on Tuesday morning because the buses were slow and late wasn’t too bad a stressful factor but when I had to travel to Macarthur Square on the express train as there were train guards waiting to bust me at Campbelltown, the temper rose. In addition, I had to catch the later bus yesterday and now, with today’s stupidity, the same epic dramas. The bus this morning was late and slow but I just made it with a little gallop to my regular train.

Lyssa On The Train

However, seeing Lyssa, Naqi, Penelope and Carleigh sitting together and facing me on the opposite end of the carriage wasn’t my idea of a pleasant trip. Suddenly, what good thoughts I had about Lyssa were ruined by the fuckwit she chose to sit next to and chat with along the way. There was no consolation for the fact that she smiled at me midway through our trip after avoiding me most of the way and at one stage, even considering to head for another carriage which probably would have been better.

Anyway, as I will shed more antipathy on these diverse subjects at a later stage, nothing topped off my animus which was on the verge of letting out a roaring scream of protest. Catching the normal train to avoid their possible bullshit, I felt great sitting on the train, nothing but gorgeous girls sitting next to me, one in front of me and one standing right next to me. Nevertheless, jumping off at Campbelltown Station, the dream came to an end as I headed to the ticket machines.

Ticket Swallowed By Machine

The train was unduly late in reaching the station and with my bus rearing to leave at any second, I wanted to hurry through the gates. However, hurry was the least of what I produced, lining up in an unctuous heavy crowd. With three people in front of me, the guy at the machine somehow lost his ticket and after holding everyone else back in our line, he finally walked out and headed to the guys with badges.

Pissed off that precious time was wasting, the next guy in the line got through nicely but the guy in front of me had the same annoying problem. At this stage I was contemplating on just pushing into the other line with my ticket but I held my ground and as that guy pissed off, forward I walked. Hoping that the same problem wouldn’t happen with my ticket, I was shocked when my ticket was also swallowed and as my eyes bulged to a disgusted hatred for City Rail, I walked over with a calm malevolence that never escalated entirely.

“My ticket got stuck in the machine” I uttered to the lady that with her outfit and hair, looked more a man. When she spoke back to me, her husky voice made me think I was all the more correct in my assumption. Trying my hand at staying calm and being mature about the situation worked to a point but they were taking advantage of me because of my younger age than themselves.

Heading to the ticket machine once everyone was through, I knew that I was definitely out of contention for my bus and animosity over anxious desperation had evolved. Checking through the ticket box where they all fall through when finished I patiently noted of my impatience but all she could do was say “Hold up hold up, take it easy”.

After a couple of minutes, we didn’t end up finding my ticket and the bitch takes this opportunity to advise me that the guy in front of me walked out with two tickets in his hand, one obviously mine. Pissed off, I agitatedly asked “Well, what’s going to happen now” to which she replied “Don’t worry, we’ll compensate you for your losses. Somehow, I didn’t believe her word or anything to do with City Rail and as usual, my presumption about this dump belonging to the government was right.

Station Office Runaround

Carting me off into the office portion where I was last booked and fined for jumping off at a no stop station, the detestation I felt that day was like a ghostly forefather in my veins. Constantly, I kept asking the lady if I was going to get compensated for my ticket and to her words, I was going to get a brand spanking new shiny ticket, wrong.

Taking ten minutes to fill out a form, she asked for all my details and when it came to what ticket I purchased, I knew I should have held a lie instead of facing possible interrogation. “I bought a student apprentice card on Sunday” I noted to which she asked “Do you have your concession card with you”.

Blabbing on about the same old story of how I only use it when buying the ticket, she filled it our regardless and when I thought I was home free, she ran me around a little more. Pointing me over to the station manager on platform two, by this point I was fuming, heading up the stairs on platform three and pacing sternly to his door.

Looking more like an entrance to a closet, I knocked abruptly to which some guy opened the door almost instantly and upon my entrance, I was greeted by an austere and insolent prick of an old man.

“What are you here for” the station master asked as I walked into his small office and produced the piece of paper to which was supposed to rectify my problem. Reading through it slowly, he finally paused to ask “Do you have your concession card with you”. Bowing my head with disdain, I argued that I only show my ticket upon purchase and to that he uttered “Then I can’t give you your ticket until you show me your concession card”.

Unnerved, I wasn’t pushed over the edge just yet but believe me, thoughts of just flipping out and throwing punches at active and inactive objects in the room was flowing through my mind like sped up 35-mm movie film. Pausing for a second to catch my bustling anger I questioned his authoritative voice, worth no more than the worn down photocopier he used to photocopy my details. “Come on, cut me some slack” I disputed standing firm, “I don’t get paid until tomorrow, how am I supposed to get to work and back”.

Relenting slightly to my words, the harsh prick started writing his precious little signature, writing a comment on the paper to which I had to show my concession card within the next twenty four hours. Therefore, I now had a deadline for something I couldn’t accomplish and if I have to now weigh up borrowing money off my parents tonight and running around to buy a ticket opposed to paying a fine, I think I would chose the first option.

The Ticket Guys Upstairs

Heading up to the ticket guy upstairs wasn’t any quicker an operation. Each leg seemed to take forever and as a guy walked me towards the next destination, he had to stop off at his office on the platform. For two minutes I waited around as time kept creeping forward. My second and later bus would be arriving soon and as we began our walk again to the ticket window, I was passed onto some other guy.

Now, even though he had my authorization letter, he bothered to ask if I had a concession card. Although I was down on my luck to their stupid fault, I was badgered by every person I attended to. Having to explain myself and the demands I had to meet, I ushered him along quicker as I noted I had a bus to catch soon. “Alright, here’s you’re ticket which you can use until Saturday” he noted, handing me something that looked more like a fine than a ticket.

Walking Past Penelope’s Cousin

Disparaged to their efforts, I walked away disgusted, knowing I had the short end of the stick in the argument of getting my ticket back. Deciding to journey down to the bus stop at Dumaresq street, I cussed all the way down, occasionally raising my tempered hand to smash a wall or a window but I never allowed them to get the better of me. What made matters worse was my walking past that Lebanese cousin of Penelope’s that I so much hate.

Looking kind of like Naqi with that short curly hair and looking like a trouble maker, I walked past him, two girls and a Leb friend of his who were all hanging out at the front of the new ‘7/11’. Bowing his eyes upon my passing, I was somewhat withdrawn from further rage, figuring that he esteemed me (Under all that trouble making guise) for going out with Lyssa. The bus took a couple of minutes to arrive I can’t complain about the trip apart from my dwelling upon all the wrongs that this month hath procured.

Now at home, I loathe the fact to which I have to show my card each time I walk through their gates and it pisses me off that I’ll probably get busted on Friday for not showing my concession card. I swear, if I get another possibility of a fine, I’ll be conjuring up all the anger held in and believe me, I won’t hold back despite the possibility of a large commuter populace being around…

Monday Starts With Dad

Cutting now to my rendezvous with chronology, I believe that I am partial to Monday’s hearing, to the point where I have left home, headed for the station. For most of the morning, I was waiting around for dad to prepare himself because he was headed down to Campbelltown himself. Originally, I was going to have him drop me off at Macarthur Square but as he prolonged himself and noted he had to wait for someone to call before he left, I was without assurance and left on foot.

Dressing myself up favorably, I was considering just wearing something in-between my old ragged and my new flair. However, these days you never know just when you have to impress someone and for Monday, I wanted to be on point. Wearing my ‘Guess’ shoes as well as my black chord pants, baby blue Hound Dog top and slim-line jacket, I added my choker chain for show.

Grabbing my hat and placing it in the bag I usually take to work, I placed the video I wished to swap inside and headed out the door for my trek to Campbelltown. The shoes I’ve bought are a touch tight on my feet but despite my occasionally having to suck in my toes somewhat to walk down hills, it was quite comfortable.