Einstein was once traveling from Princeton on a train when the conductor came down the aisle, punching the tickets of every passenger. When he came to Einstein, Einstein reached in his

Einstein was once traveling from Princeton on a train when the conductor came down the aisle, punching the tickets of every passenger. When he came to Einstein, Einstein reached in his vest pocket, then his coat pocket, then patted his trousers. A look of mild bewilderment, usually reserved for contemplating the mysteries of the universe, began to dawn on his face as he realized his pockets were, alarmingly, devoid of the small cardboard rectangle required for train travel.

The conductor, a burly man with a no-nonsense demeanor and a puncher that looked capable of perforating steel, tapped his foot impatiently. "Ticket, sir? We haven't got all day. This isn't a thought experiment, it's a train journey."

Einstein, rummaging through his messy briefcase which seemed to contain more loose papers and half-eaten apples than anything useful, mumbled, "My apologies, my dear fellow. It seems I've misplaced it. A momentary lapse in… topological awareness, perhaps. Or perhaps it's simply experiencing relativistic time dilation in my other coat."

The conductor, clearly unimpressed by theoretical physics, sighed. "Sir, I just need your ticket. Or you'll have to pay the fare again, plus a penalty."

Einstein's face crumpled in genuine distress. "But I assure you, I have a ticket! I distinctly recall purchasing it. It's simply not where my current understanding of spatial coordinates suggests it should be!" He then began patting his hair, as if hoping the ticket might be nestled amongst his wild, unruly locks.

The other passengers, recognizing the famous physicist, began to murmur. Some offered sympathetic smiles; others looked utterly baffled.

"Professor Einstein," the conductor said, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice, "I recognize you. I know you're a brilliant man, but I still need a ticket. Or payment."

Just as the conductor was about to give up and simply waive the fare, considering it a small price for the sheer amusement of the situation, Einstein suddenly snapped his fingers, a eureka moment lighting up his eyes.

"Aha!" he exclaimed, triumphantly pulling something out of his wallet. It wasn't a train ticket. It was his railroad pass for the entire year, neatly tucked behind his driver's license. Not only did he have a ticket, he had tickets for eternity!

The conductor stared at the pass, then at Einstein, then back at the pass. He slowly put his puncher away. "Well, Professor," he said, a sheepish grin spreading across his face, "my apologies. Carry on then. And perhaps next time, consider keeping your annual pass in a more… universally accessible location?"

Einstein merely nodded, beaming. "Indeed!" he replied, stuffing the pass back into his wallet with surprising efficiency. "One must always account for the inherent unpredictability of the fourth dimension, even when simply commuting." He then returned to staring out the window, presumably pondering the quantum mechanics of lost tickets, leaving a bewildered but amused conductor to move on down the aisle.