I ride the bus in Washington, D.C. often enough to know that I am cheating myself by paying. Every time it’s the same ordeal. When the bus rolls up to the stop—usually a few minutes late—I pull out my wallet and get ready to swipe my card. But it’s never so simple: Sometimes the machine is broken. Other times my card is defective and the machine won’t take cash. But most often, the driver, already harried by other more pressing worries at the Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority, simply doesn’t have time for some guy attempting to pay for his ride—and lurches on, leaving me to figure it out in medias res or give up.
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