Three anecdotes
I know, I know - public transport stories are for teenager angstophiles and journalists desperate to fill a column. But these three anecdotes from the past week are decent, I hope.

#1: Scene - Clifton Hill station, 6pm. Two guys are sauntering along the platform and come to a Crimestoppers billboard. For your prejudiced pleasure, the two men have patchy skin, unshaven with unsteady gaits. They pause and closely inspect the grainy pictures of men in baseball caps looking shifty. One slaps the other on the back and says "Hey Joe man, that's you, isn't it?". Joe laughs a trifle awkwardly. Exeunt.

#2: Scene - Number 96 tram. Two men sit with hands folded comfortably on their paunches, looking suspiciously placid. I suspect undercover ticket inspectors. A third man jumps on the tram and looks at the two men. He whips out a ticket and attempts to validate it. The machine rejects it once, twice, three times. I glance at the ticket. It's been subjected to enormous pressure, folded, scarred and doused in water, for the final ignominity. He casts a look around the tram and tries another machine, which unsurprisingly rejects his piece of paper. Mission completed,
he announces to the uncaring masses that "he tried" and asks rhetorically, "what can you do?". His act over, the man whistles and relaxes into his alibi. I wonder how many times he's used this trick successfully.

#3: Scene: 109 tram, zipping down Victoria Parade. The tram rocks to a halt and spry small men burst on board in a blitzkrieg of ticket checking. The men pant with enthusiasm at this raid. And then lumbers on their mothership: the fattest man I've ever seen. His wiry drones buzz around the tram before returning to their massive home. He inspects everyone cooly and drapes his hands over his mammoth belly.

People are strange.