It was early on Saturday evening. I was in Bridgend and had to get to Cardiff to get to a Razorlight concert (about a 20/25 minute train ride, in theory). There were 3 trains leaving' at 5:55, 6 and 6:26. I was supposed to be meeting some friends there just before 7 so the first 2 were the much simpler options. I was reading these times on their internet site and happened to glance down at the clock. 5:51 it said. So I pretty much flat out sprinted the whole way there (although, to be honest, that's usually my only way of catching a train, I have no idea how long it takes to get to the station at a normal pace). I got there as the clock hit 5:58, I could literally see the 5:55 train pulling away from the station, I took a look at the schedule and it read:

18:00 - Cardiff Central - Expected 18:23

Bollocks! I was going to be pushing it to be there on time. So I sat. And I waited. And I glanced at the clock. And it read:

18:00 - Cardiff Central - Expected 18:31

18:26 - Cardiff Central - Expected 18:34.

Without bringing up the profuse amount of swearing, I eventually got on a train at half past 6. By this point I was more than a little irked with the train service. So I resolved to myself that unless prompted, I wouldn't mention to the conductor that I hadn't bought a ticket (my local train station has crappy hours for buying tickets and you're generally expected to buy them on the train). So with my new resolve to show my civil disobedience by depriving the train service of £4.50, I continued on my way.

As it turns out, I didn't have a choice in the matter, the conductor never came into the main carriages, so I didn't even get the opportunity to buy a ticket. Regardless I left the station with a slight smirk on my face at how I'd (admittedly involuntarily) showed the Man who was boss (in retrospect this was probably my big mistake).

Somehow or other, I was able to make it close to on time (Due, at least in part to a silly looking sprint around Cardiff). Razorlight were pretty good to watch. I had a great time and returned to the train station only to run into a large, hulking, security guard shaped obstacle.

"What platform for the train back to Bridgend" says I expectantly.
"Not a train, is a bus" comes the reply. Bad news. It was 11 o'clock on a Saturday night and being both tired and sweaty, 20 minutes on a relatively spacious train seemed considerably preferable to 35 minutes on a cold, cramped bus. But it seemed bearable.
"Do you have a ticket?" he adds unexpectedly.
"Why?" I hesitantly reply.
"Because the buses are already busy and I've been to told not to let anyone through who doesn't have one"
"Can't ...people just buy one now?"
"Nope"
Now this just seemed fundamentally ridiculous. I couldn't get home because I didn't have a ticket that I hadn't had any opportunity to buy.
"So do you have a ticket then?"
"Umm....yes"
He didn't seem too convinced. He looked about to ask me to show him my non-existent ticket when another public transport aficionado who appeared to be in my situation began to protest. While the security guard was distracted, I slipped past with a group of other people.

The bus driver was nowhere in sight so I just hopped on. Thankfully there were plenty of spaces (I'd have felt a wee bit guilty if someone had lost out because of me). As the bus pulled away I realised that I still hadn't had to buy a ticket, and my smirk returned. (You'd think I'd have learned from the last time)

Then the drunken singalong started.