The Dread: A Short Story

This is what happens. You get off work at 5:30 and need to be in the CBD by 6. You left slightly too late to be on time to your appointment and you know it. So, you walk at a pace that looks like, with each step, you are poised at an angle that will most certainly propel you swiftly and face first into the ground, managing each time to project your leg out in front of yourself to prevent falling at the last moment. Each step continues like this in a hurried, frantic manor. You are passing joggers and your calves are burning.

You know the train is faster to get into town, but the tram is usually more frequent. This is a typical debate in your mind: trying to decide which mode of transport Fate will assign you to. It's like picking which line to stand in in the grocery store; and you undoubtedly always pick the wrong one. But alas, as you approach the overpass, you see that the train you want is currently slowing to a stop at the station that is but 200 feet down the ramp across the street. If you run you can make it. You dodge traffic crossing the street and run full-bore down the ramp with your coat blowing in the wind and your gym bag bouncing on your back.

This is one of the smaller train stations that, rather than having a turnstile that only allows you through if you validate your ticket, has a stand whereby you "voluntarily" validate your ticket on an "on your honor" basis. Normally, you are always on your honor (not only because it's the right thing to do, but also because there are frequently city employees pacing the trains and trams issuing fines to those without validated tickets). As you are speeding down the ramp toward the open doors of the train, you know that validating your ticket will undoubtedly make you miss the train. You fumble through your handbag anyway as you bounce down the ramp, trying to find your wallet with the precious tram/train ticket inside that you last validated this morning. You can't find it and it doesn't matter anyway; the train doors are open and waiting...and about to close. So you bypass the ticket stand and jump through the open doors just in time.

Now comes The Dread. You're on the train without a stamped ticket. You're in way over your head here. It's ok, you think, the very worst that can happen is that a tram officer approaches me and gives me a citation. But no, that's not the worst part. The worst part is the humiliation of standing in front of perhaps two dozen fellow train patrons being flogged for not having a ticket. You know they're thinking, "why didn't she just validate her ticket?", or "that was a really stupid excuse, why didn't she just say that she tried but the machine was broken?". You know because you've been the eavesdropping onlooker many times. It's always so pathetic.

So you sit on the train. You glance nervously back and forth down the train car, scanning for possible city officers in disguise (because, yes, they actually do disguise themselves in "normal" clothing in order to catch people). You are practically sweating. And during the two-stop ride, perhaps seven minutes long, you spend the entire time not reading as you normally would, but rather coming up with an excuse that you will use when you get caught. Because obviously you're going to get caught. You may as well have a giant sign over your head flashing "CHEATER" or "CURRENTLY STEALING FROM THE CITY" or similar. Certainly someone will see it; it's impossible not to.

Unfortunately, you were not blessed with the ability to lie convincingly. This is worrying you now. Like a myriad of other sports and activities, you long ago realized that you are not naturally good at lying. It makes you uncomfortable to tell even the smallest lies. Just the other day you accidentally broke a binder at work and the kindly secretary advised you to simply tell the boss that she decided to replace the binder because the original one was getting old. When casually questioned by the boss, you immediately and involuntarily blurted out how you broke the binder. You even provided details about the actual way that you broke it. You could not manage even a simple mistruth to make yourself look slightly less stupid about something that no one even cared about.

Also, you have found, many people expect you to lie in some cases. When you are pulled over in your car, no officer expects or wants you to say "Oh, sorry sir, I just like travelling this fast", or "I didn't see you there or I would have slowed down", or "Yes, I did know I was travelling this fast...sorry". They think your a bit off. And they give you a ticket anyway. You know this because you have done it. Four times.

Somehow you make it to your train stop unscathed. In those long seven minutes all you've come up with as your excuse is maybe to say that you forgot, or that you thought you did validate but must have not done it. You could tell the truth and say that if you had validated that you would have missed the train and that you're in an awful rush. To get to your book club meeting. Not exactly life or death; you doubt they will have pity.

But you're not out yet. You are now at the main train station, the giant, inner-city hub of all the trains. This station most certainly has turnstiles and it also has a thousand people shoving their way through them continuously. You're not sure what happens if you try to pass through the turnstile to get out with a ticket that was never stamped to get in. It's like standing on the edge of a waterfall about to jump in. What will happen? Will you make it through? Or will you tumble onto the jagged rocks hidden by the current and die?

Getting to the turnstile is like playing double dutch. You have to time it right and jump in full force, with confidence. You are reluctant because of your guilty conscience. So you keep getting cut by other rushed commuters. Finally, you just grit your teeth walk up to the stainless steel box that will determine the fate of your evening and insert your unvalidated, lying, cheating, stealing train ticket from this morning. The machine ponders your card for a split second and instead of spitting out your liar ticket, repulsed, and setting off alarms while tethering you to the floor so that you may not escape your flogging, it pops out like normal and the yellow, plastic, triangular "doors" open briefly to let you through. The ticket machine said your ticket was good through 10pm! It was wrong! Blissfully wrong in your favor!

Now the nerves transform into a tiny prickly sensation of joy. You won. You beat the system. You tricked them out of $2.80. You stole from The Man and he didn't even know. You are clearly far more clever than you had previously thought. And as you hop the tram just outside the train station that will take you the additional 4 blocks to your specific destination, you waltz casually over to the ticket machine because even through your magnificent victory, you know that you cannot stand even one more ride with The Dread.