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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.