In a weird way, the maximum fare is a humbling experience. Rich or poor, tired or wired, we all get caught. It’s the one tax that the multi-millionaire on the express train and the broke student on the local share equally.
It's a fleeting moment of solidarity. You lock eyes with a stranger at the customer service kiosk. You both know why you’re there. No words are needed. Just a shared grimace and the silent oath: "Never again."
Until next week, of course. Because you will forget again. You’re only human. And the machine is always watching. So keep tapping, my friends, and may your fares always be as short as your commute.
