My stomach growled at me almost as soon as we taxied into the terminal in Halifax. I didn’t want to waste time getting an expensive full meal here when I could get a cheaper one somewhere else after I checked in at the hotel. I want to just stave it off for later, but its protesting stops me at a line of vending machines. Oddly enough, the candy bars inside are reasonably priced. Immediately, my eyes lock on B13, a Snickers bar. Drool fills my mouth, a slight bit spilling out of the corner, as I produce my wallet and yank out a one. The machine accepts the money and I press the appropriate buttons. The screen scrolls a message at me. “Please deposit 75 cents.” I hit the money return button, but nothing happens.
Frantically, I scan the machine, finally remembering the currency difference, but a sticker on the side dictates that it accepts both American and Canadian money. “Please deposit 75 cents,” it mocks at me again. I give it a light tap on the side. Still nothing.
The old lady standing behind me peeks around. “Something wrong, dearie?” she creaks in her octogenarian voice.
“Yeah. This thing just ate my dollar.”
“Mind if I give it a try?” she asks. I shrug and give her the go-ahead. She pulls out a U.S. Dollar, deposits it and the machine spits out a small bag of star mints. She places the candy in her purse nonchalantly. “Seems to be working fine to me.” She smiles her toothless grin at me and saunters off.
“Please deposit 75 cents,” its screen demands of me again. It looks like I have no choice.
