This tale involves me, my younger brother, and the Tri-Met transit police. I won’t say whether it’s true, in case my parents ever read this entry.

We’ll go waaaaay back, to May ’03.

My parents and Lil Bro had flown out to visit me, and to witness the commencement that wasn’t. Since commencement, well, wasn’t, we spent the remainder of that happy weekend wandering around the Gorge and sight-seeing in Portland.

It was a typical family weekend, filled with your look at this, look at that, and when will you ever do anything right‘s.

Suffice it to say, the folks weren’t thrilled with me.

Somehow, though, that last night, Lil Bro and I convinced the folks to go back to the hotel early, leaving just the two of us to hang out. Our intention was, of course, to scare up some mischief. What we told the folks was that we were going to ride bikes.

Mischief + bikes = Zoobomb.

So off we rode, me and a housemate on a home-welded tandem, and Lil Bro on a borrowed road bike. We rode out to Hollywood Transit Center, and caught the MAX up to Washington Park.

I don’t recall whether Lil Bro said he’d been on a bike before.

I don’t think my housemate and I had ever taken the tandem out before either.

We were shaky afterwards, and feeling high on life. We caught the MAX at the bottom, intending to ride back to Hollywood, then ride bikes home.

It was all good times until the transit police got on at Lloyd Center.

We were all busted by Hollywood.

You see, our transfers had expired while we were standing around in the dark of the park, drinking PBRs and laughing.

We got off the MAX, all fidgety and nervous. The transit police did a lot of hemming and hawing, let some lovey-dovey kids on a date with expired transfers go with a warning, then fixed his eye and mustache on us.

In the end, I was the only one who ended up with a ticket. I might’ve smartmouthed someone. The important thing was that Lil Bro not end up with one, which he didn’t.

I paid the ticket a week late.

I thought that was the end of the affair.

A month ago, I got another bill from the County. Something about interest on the unpaid balance. So I ended up paying out another $150.

The moral of the story: do not farejump.