February 11, 1993
Dear Everyone:
Last week was Week One of riding the Great Silver Worm (aka
BART) to and from work.
Actually, it was only four days as I was in “Livermore” one day.
On Friday, my ticket died.
To use BART, you must have a ticket.
Each ticket consists of a piece of paper of a particular shape
and size, with a small hole in the upper right corner and a magnetic
strip running down the left side.
To enter the BART system, you walk up to a turnstile (preferably one
marked “Enter”; trying to use a turnstile marked “Closed” will only get
you amused glances from more experienced commuters) and stick your
ticket into the slot on the front of the turnstile.
BART grabs the ticket (that’s what the little hole is for),
records the code for the station that you’re entering on the magnetic
strip, and spits the ticket up out the top (like a miniature whale).
You take the ticket and the little doors open to let you through.
Next, you find the platform that corresponds to your destination and get
in a line to wait for the next train.
You can spot a seasoned commuter as someone who can do this
entire exercise without ever removing their eyes from the sports page,
Harlequin novel, or corporate report.
When you get to wherever you’re going, you repeat the process.
Stick your ticket into a turnstile marked “Exit”.
BART grabs the ticket, notes where you came into the system,
where you are now, what the fare is, subtracts the fare from the value
of your ticket, prints the new value on the front of the ticket, and
spits the ticket up out the top.
You grab the ticket, the turnstile opens and you’re on your way.
But every once in a while, when you grab your ticket, the little doors
don’t open. You discover
this when you run into them.
Now it’s time to stop reading the paper and pay attention.
You put your ticket in again and, this time, you see the top of
the turnstile flash a message:
“See Agent.”
You do not want to see this message.
This is right up there with when the computer programmer says,
“Gee, I wonder why it did that?” right in the middle of producing the
most important report of your career.
When you get the “See Agent” message, you do the following (you
might want to keep these instructions in case you plan to visit the Bay
Area sometime in the next few decades):
1.
Swear profusely.
2.
Back up out of the turnstile, bumping into the commuters behind you, who
are swearing at you profusely.
3.
Go to an Agent Booth. While
the Booth is there, the Agent probably isn’t.
4.
Go to another Booth, usually at the other end of the station.
In downtown San Francisco, we’re talking a trek of about 1-2 city
blocks.
5.
Find an Agent. Give Agent
your ticket. There’s no need
to explain that the turnstile told you to see an Agent.
Why else would you be handing this person your ticket?
6.
Agent runs the ticket through various little slots in the Booth and
little colored lights flash on and off.
7.
Agent informs you that your ticket has “been de-magnetized”.
Translation: You
ticket died.
8.
Agent asks to see your driver’s license and uses it to fill out a form.
Only afterward does the Agent ask if this is your current mailing
address on the license (when is it
ever?) Agent asks where
you’re going and notes it on the form.
BART will send you a check for the value of your ticket, minus
the fare of this trip.
9.
Agent asks you to sign the dead ticket (R.I.P) and gives you the pink
copy of the form.
10.
Agent allows you to enter the system through a gate next to the Booth.
Notice that this gate is not locked. Anybody
could have just walked through it, even if the Agent wasn’t there.
11.
Get on your train. If it’s
at the end of the day, and you’re going home on the Concord line, get on
a Daly City train and ride it down several stations.
Cross the platform and wait for a Concord train.
This way, you have a prayer of getting a seat.
12.
At your destination, repeat Steps 3 & 4, as necessary.
13.
Show Agent your pink slip.
14.
Agent allows you to go through another unlocked gate.
We’re on the honor system here.
But, hey! If you
weren’t an honest person, would you go through all this trouble?
15.
Buy a new ticket to use in the morning to get in to work again.
16.
Go home and take a hot bath.
Make a note to go to the Credit Union tomorrow and buy another
high-value ticket. (At the
CU, you can get a $32 ticket for $30.)
17.
Wait for BART check to arrive in the mail.
Don’t hold your breath.
Fortunately, this happened at the
end of the day, not in the morning.
Unfortunately, I’d forgotten about Step 15.
When I told “Jeannie” about it at lunch on Saturday, she reached
right into her purse and produced a leftover ticket from some trip she’d
made into the City. Thus, I
only had to add 35¢ to the existing ticket to get into work.
I am instructed to point out that “Jeannie” knew
exactly where in her purse to find said BART ticket.
A major achievement.
I am further instructed to inform you that she found the Owner’s Manual
to her TV after a search of less than two weeks. (It
was in the cat’s room.) She
was looking for the Manual because here TV has developed a personality
disorder, requiring hospitalization.
She is reduced to only one TV in her household, at least
temporarily.
Get Well cards may be sent to:
XXXX St Matthew Place, #XXX
Concord, CA 94518
A complete recover is expected.
Love, as always,
Pete
PS. I’m on VACATION next
week. No Letter.
P.
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