I hate the ticket inspector who pinged me thirty seconds after I sat down on the tram. I mean, I only got on the damn thing because that whole idea about hitch-hiking up Elizabeth Street didn't work out and I was sick and exhausted. And then I have to strain my creativity explaining why I didn't have a ticket and how I was just about to buy one and then I got to the machine and realised I didn't have any change anyway and then I had to get out at Bourke Street and walk the rest of the way.
 
So it's my own stupid fault and I was lucky not to cop a fine, but I still sulked for six blocks.