By nine the fountain had already laid out a little tray of boarding passes, each no bigger than a blink and slightly damp at the edges. The bubbles lined up without shoving, waiting for their names to be called in order of shine.
We asked at the kiosk across the square. "They used to pop up all at once," said a woman with a paper bag of warm pretzels. "Today they go one by one. The benches get a proper wave, and nobody feels left out."
A note from the fountain keeper was taped to the rim: please keep your ticket until you reach the highest splash, then return it with a nod. The benches have started nodding back, which the keeper says is more than enough thanks.