Girls in white, men in black
Less pleasantly, my Charlie Card expired. I hadn't even known that was a danger. I received no warning the last time I used it, or the last time I put money on it. We came down the escalator at Davis this morning, the next train to Ashmont was a minute away, I moved to go through the turnstile and it honked at me. Card expired. I took the card out in case it couldn't read it properly. Still expired. I tried to put money on it. Still expired. At this point we were going to miss the Red Line no matter what; I turned rather frantically to the MBTA employee at the kiosk who pointed me wordlessly to a handwritten sign telling me to go to Downtown Crossing. Which I couldn't do with an expired card, never mind that we didn't have the time with our train leaving South Station in less than an hour. I paid five dollars for a printed ticket so that we could make our train; I'll have to go out by myself on Saturday and see if I can fix the problem then. The Globe tells me I should have known about the expiration in advance, but it's not very helpful to learn that I could have checked the expiration date at any fare machine when I didn't even know the cards were designed to expire. Un-fun.
No matter. We're on our way. It's our first trip as a married couple, I realize. Honeymoon stage one, commencing now.

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Wishing you more postcards and luck with the Charlie card (it has more charm than the Oyster card in London, that name).
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Every trip we take this year.
Wishing you more postcards and luck with the Charlie card (it has more charm than the Oyster card in London, that name).
Thank you! We had some beautiful things. (Why is it called the Oyster card?)
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Okay, then.