- I arranged to meet a friend on Brunswick St. this evening. I went to catch the tram, but, as I approached the stop, found it pulling away early. I waited for the next tram, which was, of course, late; more to the point, it crawled along 10 minutes after its due time, not taking passengers, with its destination sign indicating "SPECIAL". I ended up catching a tram half an hour after the one I wanted. Needless to say, I was not pleased.
- A few hours later, I caught a train home from the city. When I entered the carriage, I found that someone had obtained a large quantity of copies of mX and, for some reason, shredded them into neat strips, which were then piled on seats. They must have used a few hundred copies, as several seats were buried under the strips. Later in the trip, some customer-service personnel boarded, and the two mooks sitting in one of the most heavily covered rows (who may or may not have broken off from the dozen or so mario-homies who strutted forcefully onto the train at Parliament station) gleefully taunted them about how someone's going to have a big cleaning job. The conversation is approximated as follows
MOOK 1: You're going to have to clean all this up.
SAFE TRAVEL TEAM DRONE: No we're not. The cleaners will.
MOOK 1: And where are these cleaners of yours, O my brother?*
DRONE: At the depot.
MOOK 1: Sittin' around having a bong?
MOOK 2: *laughter*
Adventures with public transport
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