The Train Tracks Are Long And Bend Towards Justice

, , , , , | Hopeless | April 19, 2018

(The ticket machine at Winchfield train station is super crappy, and constantly has issues accepting cash payment. There are also no buildings anywhere near the train station. I am heading into Basingstoke for a Christmas work do at about nine pm. It is wet and icy, so it’s horrible. There’s a young girl, probably about 11 or 12, at the ticket machine. She has her cash in hand, so I know it won’t be a long wait, and I start fishing for my card.)

Girl: “Erm… Y-you can go ahead of me.”

(I look up, and she’s stepped to the side and pulled out her phone.)

Me: “Oh, thanks.”

(I go to the machine and the girl walks a fair bit away. The ticket machine isn’t accepting cash, and it takes a moment for me to click that the girl can’t get her ticket. She hasn’t cleared all her information from the machine, and I see her station is not one where she can get off without a ticket, so I buy hers and mine with my card. I head over to her after.)

Girl: *on the phone* “Please, Mum. It’s really cold and the ticket office is closed. Can you really not be here sooner? There’s nowhere I can wait! Mum, please?” *she starts crying*

Me: *tapping the girl’s shoulder* “Your ticket.”

(She turns round, and I hand the ticket over.)

Girl: *hesitantly taking it* “What?”

Me: “I bought your ticket. Get home safe, okay?”

(I head into the station platforms and start crossing the bridge.)

Girl: “Hey! The money for the ticket!”

(I look round. She’s trying to hand me a tenner, and I have no change on me.)

Me: “It was a few quid; it’s fine.”

Girl: “Are you sure?”

Me: “Positive. Good deed for the day and all that jazz.”

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