A Close Shave With Occam’s Razor
I caught the train to work today as Lucy had to be at work early.
I bought a single fare ticket from Bognor Train Station, to Chichester, popped it in my overcoat pocket and made my way to work.
On arrival at Chichester I put my hand in my pocket to find no ticket there. Excluding dementia, pick-pockets, an inter-dimensional rift in my overcoat and self-disintegrating paper, I can only assume that it fell out when I took out my phone.
Clumsy, but it happens.
Fortunately I had a receipt for the journey and whilst not valid for travel, it did prove that I had bought a ticket for the journey.
I approached the guard (are they still called that?) at the gate and explained the situation, handing him the receipt.
Well, he must have been having a boring morning or something because he just lit up at an international fraudster having just strolled right up and place himself into his custody.
He eyed me up and down, looked at the receipt, squinted a bit and said “where have you come from sir?”
“Bongor Regis, it says on the receipt.”
Raising his eyebrows at my impertinence he further queried “and was it a return journey?”
(he was trying to catch me out here I think)
“No”, I said “a single…like it says on the receipt.”
I can’t be sure but I think the look he then gave the young attendant next to him had something to do with prepping the waterboarding equipment.
“We get a lot of people buying tickets for a shorter journey than they have actually made” He pointed out
Not sure what clever crime he was suspecting me of I asked “But then how would I have got a receipt from Bognor Station?” (being the end of the line I would have had to have broken my journey, detoured to Bognor, buy the ticket and then head back to Chichester, and he KNEW this!)
Handing me back the ticket he said “just be careful with your tickets in future Sir” and then made me wait for just long enough to demostrate who REALLY had control here, before opening the gate and allowing me to leave.
You miss all this in a car.