Love, As Always, Pete

The Weekly Letters, by A. Pedersen Wood

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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