Goddamn. Is it a requirement of being either a tram driver or tram conductor that you must be in the angriest one percent of all the people in Amsterdam?

I watched a lady try and get on with her friend, at the tail end of a group of about eight, which the tram could more than accommodate, get her hand slammed in the door, separating her from her wallet (luckily, the credit card she needed to swipe onto the tram fell inside) and her friend. The door was open maybe twenty seconds, like definitely not so long as to say it was nearly done.

And she wasn’t behind, she came in right with the other people waiting. Her friend didn’t make it, and hopefully, got her wallet for her.

Clearly, it wasn’t her first tram ride, however, as she casually turned to the conductor and asked, how many stops is it to the Rijksmuseum?

Target: 1100 words
Written: 2121 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Melusine, Sarah Monette
Comics: Kick-Ass 5-8
Music: It All Seems So Silly In The Long Run, Sublime (doesn't it, though?)