Kelly Hirsch
Subway Diaries: Dirty Door Runners
Esmeralda Smith-Romero
Another Day in the Life of a TTC Employee
Kelly Hirsch
"What do you think we can come up with next? It's been getting kind of boring and mundane recently," said a TTC inspector to a driver, who was taking his break while his packed streetcar sat idly at a busy intersection.
"I know what you mean. Just the other day, I was zooming by stops so that people couldn't get on when I realized that people weren't running after my car, and still worse, they didn't even have disappointed looks on their faces. They've just gotten too used to it. It's really disappointing," the driver said as the inspector shook his head in disgust. They all knew that the TTC was losing its originality. People now took into account the delays and waits that they would experience while travelling on the TTC. That meant that they left earlier than they needed to so that they'd get where they were going on time. This left the drivers in the peculiar situation of having to come up with new creative ways to make people late.
"Well, what have we used so far?" the inspector asked the driver.
"Um... let's see. There's been short-turning streetcars at random locations, sending them in packs of five or six every half an hour or so during rush hour, arbitrary subway delays, moving streetcar stops miles away from the bus shelter, and what else...? Oh, of course, how could I forget, smiling at passengers as they chase after the last streetcar to come for another hour."
The two of them sat there for at least another five minutes pondering new ways to make the TTC a little more interesting when the driver interrupted the silence. "I know! We could... we could... start doing some random useless construction to create some more delays!"
"But we've already done that! Anyways, I was thinking of something more novel, more innovative so that they don't know what to expect, because I think that's the problem. Service has become way too predictable. We aren't leaving them guessing as to what comes next."
The driver asked the inspector, "Do you want to go get a coffee and think about this?"
"That sounds like a good idea," replied the inspector. "We've got a major problem on our hands that needs to be dealt with."
They contemplated many different solutions to their problem but couldn't seem to get it just right. Everything had been used before or just didn't create enough of a disturbance. They needed more time to overcome this mental barrier, so they stayed in that coffee shop for at least another ten minutes. Then the driver came up with a brilliant idea. "We could ask the passengers what they hate most about the TTC and work from that."
"I think you're on to something there," the inspector continued, " but wouldn't we have to be polite to get their feedback?" The inspector hesitated. "I'm not sure I could do that. I mean, really. I just couldn't break a rule like that. I pride myself on following the TTC code."
"Well... we could always harass students some more," suggested the driver. "I love the exasperated look on their faces when I say 'student card please,'" he said in a gleeful tone.
"I know! What's even better is when you get to make 'em put in another one," the inspector said with a smile. He sighed. "Good times, good times."
They started walking back very silently and thoughtfully to the driver's streetcar when the driver broke the calm. "I was thinking of something. I know you're going to be quite shocked at this suggestion, but it just came to me and I thought I'd let you know. You know how you said we have to do something that they aren't expecting? Well, maybe we could start running streetcars, buses and subways on time..."
"Wait! Don't even say that. You know that's not an option," the inspector said rather abruptly.
"You're right. I don't know what I was thinking. It must be this sun," the driver said as he climbed back into his streetcar full of people.
"What was I thinking..." he mumbled.
Subway Diaries: Dirty Door Runners
Esmeralda Smith-Romero
"Ding, Dang, Dong!" Ahh... the ever-melodious sound of closing subway doors. This tune, ingrained deep in our subconscious through repetitive daily conditioning, warns us commuters to stand back. For should you hear this sound when trying to catch the train from the top of an unbudging flight of stairs, it is already too late.
Just as the flashing red hand serves to warn pedestrians of the upcoming red STOP light, the subway chime is a function to be respected and obeyed. After all, it was put in place for our safety and convenience.
Why then must we mess with it, the subway song and its inevitably closing doors? Why do some people see the tune as more of a challenge and decide without a moment of rational thought to charge the doors like some angry bull? I can understand the fight and flight mechanism thing, but come on! Your life is not being put at risk by missing a subway, nor is your pride being put to the test by the seemingly mocking bell.
The ultimate justice is when even the proud and powerful attack the helpless steel alloy doors and by doing so lose every shred of dignity they once claimed.
There is also the martyr who is ultimately sacrificed by getting stuck between the rubber rimmed gates of Heaven and is forever branded by smudged black residue on his vestments.
So, what happens if by some likely chance one does not quite arrive in time to make it through the perpetually shutting doors? Well, you stare straight ahead in humiliated disbelief, catch your breath and prepare to face the audience of travelers who have just witnessed your inexplicably ridiculous act. Even worse are the people inside the train who have just watched, relishing the tragic event. These morbid sportsmen stare in mocking disgust at such attempts and whisper "Dirty Door-Runner!" once the race has ended.
However, should you be of the strong, heroic type and cheat your way past the slamming finish line, there is still no prize or praise for your catapulting accomplishment. Instead you are looked down upon by the smug folk residing within your temporary oasis. They know you are not one of them- a person of class, of pride and patience. They know where you've come from, some foreigner from the wrong side of the door, and how, by mere chance and brute force, you've ended up in their midst. All the while, they snicker and stare just as is done in polite society.
Back at the continually overflowing platform of your past, those left behind curse and fidget unendingly, jealous that, unlike you, they did not manage to catch the gravy-boat. They contemplate whether they would have had the uninhibited gall to run toward the closing doors of destiny - all of them despising you.
Now, unlike in fairy tales, epics or legends, these heroic rebels without causes are not all young, virile men, but come in the most varied and unlikely physiques. Most surprising of all are the rather elderly. These seem determined that they have waited long enough throughout their lives, and have developed a confrontational impatience to get what they have by now earned, and to get it now. Or, some may just be confused, thinking that those shining mechanical doors are in fact the eternal pearly gates. Determined not to be left out on some sinful technicality, they run as though their souls depended on it.
We've all seen these events unfold, and have seen the desperation in the challengers' eyes, but proper subway etiquette simply does not allow such vulgar behaviour. I know that even now some dirty door-runners are reading these words, burdened with a secret shame.
Don't be martyrs, listen to the heavenly chimes whisper "Ding, Dang, Dong!" and know that the bell has not tolled for you.
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