I remove another dollar and insert it into slot. The machine eats the money, but there is still no credit to speak of. Just as I’m about to lambaste the conniving device, the vendor walks up behind me, surprising me. “Hang on for a minute there, eh?” I jump out of his way with a small squeal, which seems to amuse him greatly. “We’ve been having some problems with this contraption. How much money have you put it?”
“Two dollars. American. One before an old lady and one after.”
“A-yuh. She’s the one who told me you were having problems.” He inserts his key and twists the door open. “You want your money back, or…?”
I thought about it. “Eh. Just give me a Snickers and whatever else will call us even. I can always use some snackies.”
He pulls a Snickers, a couple bags of chips and granola bar with raisins. I hate bunny nuggets, but I take them gratefully as he sets about to find the problem. I begin to stuff the goodies into my bag, but I spot a homeless man leaning on the window just to the right of the entrance. I look at the granola bar and chips and decide I’m going to give them to someone who needs them far more than I do. As I’m hailing a taxi to get to the hotel, I feel a small hard package blast me in the temple. “I HATE RAISINS!” cries the homeless man as I pick up the now shattered snack.
