I really should get a bus ticket. I had no change this morning so i had to raid the copper jar. Having to drop 1.85 in one, two and five cent pieces into the slot can be quite dramatic. First there is the noise as the copper tumble into the metal box. The driver pauses. He looks at the money then at you. If it was an episode of eastenders this would be the moment the drumbeat kicks in.
You look at him, silently insisting its the correct amount. He looks back at the money. Fuck it, he's not counting all that. He presses. the button and the machine spits out the ticket.
I take my seat with a warm smug feeling inside. John 1 System 0. There was only 1.63 in it.
The adrenaline rush subsides and I realise I can't keep doing it to myself. I'm too old for this living on the edge malarkey. What if he was the fastidious, perfectionist type who wanted to check every penny was there.
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