It’s been hard to get into a motivated mood this morning, no thanks to fucking Melbourne public transport ticket inspectors.
I arrived at my train station later than I wanted this morning and the ticket machine was too long to be able to buy a ticket without missing the train, so I got on and did what I’ve done before; explain to the guy at the gate that the line was too long and ask, “Can I just buy a ticket at this end?”
He took me to the ticket inspectors where I was fined. I wasn’t trying to even cheat them, even though with their service, do Connex even deserve to charge us to be squashed in like sardines on late trains? There was no discretion; the officer was just like a robot without any consideration of my circumstances.
Transit police do feature in one of the pieces I have drafted for Capital Comes Dripping (see yesterday’s post) so perhaps this experience can be inspiration for this piece. They’re not going to like what I have to say about them 
