It’s a brand new decade and things are pretty much back to the way things were in November of 2009, before the Christmas spirit. The winter season has definitely come with full force causing havoc to the local commute.
Within the first week of the new year, there were already two or three consecutive days when there were technical or mechanical issues with the system, causing chaos to erupt right in the middle of rush hour.

What better time for a subway system to crumble than when everybody needs it the most. Just the other day, for example, we were forced to exit the train before my intended destination. Needless to say everybody on the entire train grumbled with disappointment as they exited the train, only to be confronted with angrier people who had been waiting on the platform for some time for a train that they could get on to.

And to think they can justify raising the prices again. Remind me again, why are we paying so much for public transit?

I have to admit though. I do find interest within the TTC transit system. Torontonians are so very eclectic in their ways that it’s very interesting to simply people watch. Back in the good old days, I used to love just watching people stroll by and observe their behaviour in public.

Seeing as I commute every day, I get to do just this, every single day. It’s also interesting to see those familiar faces on the system. You know, those people that you never really talk to, but see every day because they take the same bus or train as you do at that very same time. It happens to all of us at one point in time I’m sure.

You can almost get a sense of who they are by how they act, what they do, and what they’re wearing every day. A little invasive? Not really. I call it observant.

Right now, a sudden recollection of Amelie just passed by me.

You have to wonder if they think the same way. But then there are those awkward moments when you happen to make eye contact. You quickly look away hoping the other didn’t see you looking at them. Or you simply brush your glance away as if you were merely in transition of doing something else. It happens. It’s strange, yet unavoidable. Afterall, you have to look somewhere; I’m not the one to sleep standing up.

Perhaps I should find a book to read.

Nah. People reading is much more interesting.

So I get ready to head out the door this morning only to find that my monthly metropass is nowhere to be found on the side table next to the front door where I normally put it everyday after I come home from work. I thought for a while, looked around the area but came out empty handed. Naturally, I checked the pockets of the pant I was wearing yesterday, but again came out empty handed. In the meanwhile, my gf was waiting and the elevator was coming up quickly. I’m sure she had to send one down while I haphazardly looked all around for that small little plastic card that had “September” written on it.
After a good few minutes of scrounging around to no avail, I gave up and left my home to catch the elevator. By that time I was just as much upset at myself as I was perplexed as to how I could have misplaced my pass. I thought over and over again while descending down multiple levels that it didn’t even occur to me that I should in fact take my car to work today rather than pay my way to work.
Fortunately work was pretty hectic today so that kept my mind off of my stupidness. After coming home, I thoroughly checked again all possible places. Then I thought to myself: If I were a metropass, where would I be? I ran through step by step what I did the previous evening. I did my laundry so the first though was in my laundry bag. I checked there in the morning but no luck; I even patted the bottom of my laundry hamper but no luck. Then it occurred to me that I didn’t actually see with my own eyes the bottom of my laundry hamper. So as I brushed away the laundry bag in the hamper, and sure enough, there it was!
It was a big relief as now I know I don’t have to drive to work next week while the month passes by.
Now, back to normal!

On my way home from work the other day, something that normally doesn’t happen to me, happened to me. Listening to my iPod and walking about, minding my own business, I was walking down some steps towards the subway platform when I noticed that the subway was already there with its doors open. Seeing as I wanted to go home early that particular evening, I decided to make a run for the doors. I started double-stepping down the stairs, which I do every now and then, in hopes of getting to the subway doors in time. Then I heard that all familiar tone for the subway; the one that indicates the doors are about to close. This tone – as conservative as it is – triggered something in me, making me go even faster down the steps. Already double-stepping down, I knew my feet couldn’t go any faster than it already was. But this didn’t stop my brain from thinking I could make it down there in time.

The steps at this particular station was quite long. Longer than your average set. I was about halfway down the steps when I heard the tone. I rushed without thinking, and before I knew it, my feet were way ahead of me, with the souls of my shoes slipping and sliding on the edges of the stairs. I fell back – thankfully not forwards – and in an effort to regain my balance, one of my feet instinctively tried to go back to save myself from falling completely on the ground. As I was on the stairs, there wasn’t a large surface for my foot to make contact with, so it landed on the edge of the steps, where my not-so-cool sliding action began.

I guess you can say my foot acted as a surfing mechanism, and seeing as the length from one edge of the steps to the next wasn’t all that much longer than the length of the sole of my shoe, I was able to glide down the stairs. Unfortunately, this wasn’t as cool as it sounds. The foot that went back wasn’t strong enough to support the momentum of my body going backwards, so my butt ever so gently scraped the edges of the stairs as I glided down.

I reached the bottom of the stairs where I stood myself up and looked towards the train as its doors closed right in front of me. At that point, I saw the people inside looking squarely at me. I thought to myself, “from their perspective, they must have seen me disappear halfway down the steps only to reappear back at the bottom of the stairs!” A cool view, I thought.

I smirked thinking I could have made it into the subway, but instead made a fool of myself. The subway left the platform, and I sat down at the bench, resting my slightly sore bottom. I looked behind me at the stairs and quietly admitted to my defeat for that day: subway stairs 1, me 0.