Why, oh why…

…is it so hard to buy a digital bus ticket in 2026?

10^th Nov. 2026 5 min. read

Paying digitally for public transportation in my hometown Munich is swift and convenient. In theory. You open the app, swipe right, hop on a bus, ride, hop off, swipe left – done. The app handles fare zones for you, and no matter how often you ride, you are never charged more than what a day ticket would cost. Sounds lovely, doesn’t it? Well, theory and practice can sometimes be worlds apart, as I was vividly reminded this morning.

I’m running a tad late to catch the bus to the office, so I rush to the bus stop. Shortly before I get there, I open the MVV app to buy a ticket¹. Even though I used the app just last week, I find myself logged out of my account. Sigh. This keeps happening somewhat regularly – like every other month – and it’s beyond me why the app does that. Maybe a random technical glitch? Maybe a crucial security mechanism to protect my precious ticket history? Maybe some sort of subtle aid to help me memorise my password? Who knows. So I frantically tap the “sign in” button.

Signing in, of course, takes two steps: you enter your username on one screen and your password on the next. For some unknown reason, my iPhone only fills in the username but not my password – it either doesn’t store it or is unable to auto-fill it. Now, I could open my Passwords app manually, search for the relevant entry, open it, tap on the password field to reveal it, unlock it via Face ID, tap the password to copy it, and be done with it. I find that rather inconvenient, however, so I just keep a plain-text copy of that particular password in my Notes app. (As you may sense, there is a history of suffering here.)

It’s raining, and the raindrops on my phone interfere with the touch screen. Every other touch gesture is ignored or misinterpreted in erratic ways. I’m this close to turning the air blue and can barely resist smashing my phone on the ground, as if that would help anything. But it’s 9 in the morning, there are other people around me, and I don’t want to come across as a neurotic weirdo. So I compose myself and focus on completing the sign-in process.

As I look up, I see my bus turning the corner and approaching the stop. It will be here in just a few seconds, so you might think I’d better hurry and get this over with. Yet I don’t even try to speed up. I know from experience that I won’t make it. I’m not even halfway through this process. But hey, isn’t it terrific that I’ve got another 10 minutes now to figure everything out, nice and easy? Right? …Right?

For a brief moment, my mind drifts off. Some twenty years ago, I used to carry a strip ticket in my jacket pocket – a slightly crumpled paper card, worn soft along the folds. I’d hop on the bus, fold it at the right strip, slide it into the little validator by the door, and – ka-chunk – out it came with the date and time stamped on it. Thank goodness we’ve left the Stone Age behind.

Anyway. Back to the MVV app, where the sign-in has just gone through. I’m finally able to swipe the freaking slider to the right, check in and embark on my public transportation experience. (Well, digitally, at least.) A cute loading spinner keeps me entertained while my check-in request sets off on its own global journey – likely to a data centre near New York City with intermediate stops in Tokyo, Sydney and a random proxy server in western Nebraska. Understandably enough, this takes a few seconds. It’s a bus ride we are talking about, after all.

Then comes the fun part. Thanks to Visa Secure™, the check-in process doesn’t just go through: given that the whole thing costs €10 at most, it would be way, WAY too insecure to just charge my credit card without my explicit and deliberate consent. Fortunately, Visa has my back here: “Please open your banking app to authorise the payment”.

I leave the cute loading spinner spinning for a moment while I switch to my banking app. After entering my 8-digit PIN to open the app, I’m prompted to authorise the provisional €10 charge. So I tap the confirm button – only to find myself entering the 8-digit PIN yet again. (Mind you, this is barely two seconds after I entered that exact same PIN for the first time. I’m not sure what otherworldly attack scenario this is supposed to protect against, but what do I know.) Then, another confirmation dialog pops up, reminding me that bank employees will never ever ask for my PIN. “Okay” – understood. Just like yesterday. And the day before. And last week. And that other week. And, well, basically every single bloody time I approve an online payment.

I take a deep breath to calm myself and switch back to the MVV app. The spinner is still spinning reassuringly. I figure that the authorisation request for the payment must still be chasing the pending check-in request between Sydney, Tokyo and a nervously blinking server rack in a windowless hosting facility somewhere in northeastern South Carolina, two hours from the nearest Starbucks. This – fair enough – takes another couple of seconds.

Eventually, I get my ticket’s QR code. A wave of relief and, I have to admit, bliss washes over me. I’m all set now – Munich is my oyster. And as I watch the tail lights of my bus dwindle into the distance, I bask in the cosy certainty that my data and my money are in safe hands. 2026, what a time to be alive.