I was at Arlington Station yesterday helping an out-of-towner who had only been in a subway once, ten years ago in New York, figure out what the best way to approach a month in Boston was, T-farewise.  You know: if she should buy the eighty-odd dollar pass or the fifty-odd dollar one (given the fact that it is a week-and-a-half into the month and they have no thirty-day passes, only monthly ones, which is a bit of a crock), or if she should just do a ticket whenever she needed to ride—or if she needed to get a plastic Charlie Card.

To help her decide, I coaxed the T Ambassador out from behind her wire cage, and actually got her talking.  The funny thing was, she didn't just hand the Charlie Card right over, and say, "look, you need it anyway, whichever option you choose, unless you want to pay the thirty cent surcharge per trip by buying a ticket every time you use the T."  And if you can charge up the Charlie Card on a per-trip basis, why would you choose the option that's going to cost you more? 

I was like, why are they charging extra for the ticket anyway? 

She said it was because people threw them on the ground.  It was a sort of litter fee. 

I said, "well, I never threw mine on the ground." 

She said, "I know," and shrugged.

(But how did she know?  Did she really know?  Has she been stalking me?)

"Have you been stalking me?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said, and popped her gum.  "whatchu gonna do about it?"

"Um... nothing?"

"Damn straight."

Then I asked her if they were going to phase out the tickets, since, you know, why wouldn't they? 

She said, "naw, not when they're making money off of it."

And only then, when she had casually revealed the T's scandalous true motives, did she offer us a choice.

"So, do you want the card, or are you gonna get a ticket?"

"I think we'll take the card."

She nodded sagely, and handed us one. 

"I'll be watching you," she said as we walked away.