Whenever I buy a train ticket from a station machine, I try to be ready with the money beforehand. It eases my mind knowing I won't have to fumble through my wallet for cash or dig in my pockets for change while people wait for me to get out of the way. Friday morning was no different

When I arrived at the train station, I went to the machine to buy a ticket, which cost $5.25. I already had my money ready: five one-dollar bills and a quarter. As soon as the machine started accepting money, I fed the dollar bills in. The machine didn't reject even one, which took me by surprise. Machines are notorious for gobbling up bills and spitting them back out. I smiled inside.

I then inserted the quarter. It went in and came out the other end. I tried again, but the machine wouldn't take it. Glancing behind me, I noticed a line of Bellarmine boys beginning to form. I searched my backpack for another quarter, told myself not to panic, found one and put it in, but again, the machine refused it.

I was starting to feel the stare of eyes bore into the back of my skull. That's when I panicked. I pulled my wallet from my pocket and frantically searched it for another dollar, but discovered I only had a ten left. Grumbling loudly, I yanked the bill from my wallet, jammed it into the machine and waited.

The machine gurgled, paused, printed the ticket and after another agonizing pause, released the ticket and $9.75 in change. The rush of falling coins reminded me of my trip to Vegas several years ago, when the person playing the nickel slot machine next to me won big.

As quickly as I could, I kneeled, scooped the ticket and pile of coins into my cupped palm and, without making eye contact, hurried to an unoccupied part of the platform.