JANUARY 4TH 2016

JANUARY 4th 2016
 
Monday! I’m sure everybody has a few choice words for Mondays. Well, not everybody. Today I’ve met the second person who enjoys Mondays, and that especially because it is the first day of work after the weekend. That’s a strong person, much stronger than I!

For me it is always a difficult day because I have to get into a specific rhythm, after a few days when the time belonged to me entirely – as much as it is possible when you have family around with demands and pets that consider themselves the center of the world.

Who am I kidding? There’s always little time you can call yours. Gone are the days when you could do whatever you wanted and when you wanted!

That means I am simply allergic to the word “Monday”. I’ll have to think of calling the day differently and everything will be good in my world again.

Nevertheless, this Monday came with freezing temperatures. Winter spoilt us for over a month with mild weather and, suddenly, I was forced to wear my hat and the thickest coat I owe. I felt like a polar bear weighted down by its fur. That didn’t improve my speed while walking either. It wasn’t like I had a few pounds more but a few years more. Dreadful feeling!

Moreover, winter means that it is no pleasure to wait for the bus in the wind.

I never know what to expect when I leave. For the ones outside Toronto, TTC stands for the public transport service. Great service, however completely unreliable! You know when you leave but you never know when you get where you have to go. It depends on TTC.

When it comes to the subway (underground train), there’s always the possibility of signal failure or track conditions or fire alarms or safety alarms or someone gets sick on the train or – the most dreadful one: unauthorized access at the level of the track. I won’t even explain what that means.

On average, the trains are stopped or delayed about twice or three times a day. I remember once they said the entire line had been stopped because it was a train with mechanical problems at York Mills Station. The irony was that I was exactly in that station and there was nothing on the track, maybe only an invisible train. There was a sea of people on the platform, though, waiting for the line to function again.

However, today, at least while I rode the subway, there was no problem whatsoever. Unexpectedly, the trains were prompt, the speed perfect, everything went fine. I was stunned by the level of the service and I kept my fingers crossed the entire trip so that nothing would go wrong. I was already late for work and it doesn’t help my record being late.

The problem was with the bus, which by the way is scheduled at the minute. Today, only one bus came for three of them – fact that, unfortunately, has become a habit lately.

I understand buses were missing. How could a bus be missing? Has it gone AWOL? Has someone stolen the bus? You can keep wonder. I haven’t got an answer. What I got, though, was a strong wind in my face that felt like cracking.

Now, riding the TTC you understand better the expression “survival for the fittest”.

With some exceptions, especially at the bus, when people wait politely in line in the order they got to the stop, it is a fight to get on the bus or train first. Of course, the youngest and the strongest manage to do that, and that makes that most seats are occupied by young males.

However, that doesn’t happen always. There are also strong young girls, you can’t even imagine how many.

I understand people can be tired regardless their age, especially in the morning or late in the evening. However, I cannot understand how a young person can look with indifference to an older one – and I mean a senior here, not someone around 40 or 50, or to a pregnant woman or disabled person, and continue to sit while the other struggles to keep their feet on the bus floor when the driver starts thinking he/she is running for the Grand Prize at Monaco or Indianapolis.

Today, after waiting for the bus three times the allotted time (the first two buses didn’t bother to grace us with their presence), there was quite a crowd that had to get on the bus.

I was the first in line, as I had gotten there twenty minutes before for the bus that went missing. I managed to get on the bus, but I couldn’t advance on the corridor. A young girl, sitting on the seat reserved for the seniors, pregnant women or disabled had stretched her legs across the corridor. She was also leaning in front, trying to type a message on her phone. It wasn’t a comfortable position, far from that, but each with their tastes. I excused myself but she didn’t pay any attention to me. I tried again, politely, to make her let me pass by – no avail. Finally, the people behind me, started muttering – there were still people waiting to get on the bus but there was no space. Finally, she deigned to let us pass, swearing fiercely at us because we couldn’t wait for her to finish typing.

Being Monday morning, I decided not to pay attention. I have a serious credo: never start the week with bad thoughts. However, I couldn’t help noticing that while she continued to occupy that spot designated to people with specific needs, two senior women – around 70, respectively 80 were trying to hold the bar, as the driver, as I’ve already mentioned, believed himself Ayrton Sena competing for the first place.

At Bloor station, my morale had a real boost: a gentleman had taken his rabbit out for a walk. He’d taken care to dress it accordingly so that the rabbit wouldn’t feel the low temperature. The rabbit felt like a king, I’m sure, riding in a stroller. At least, it was definitely looking at us, poor homo-sapiens, with superiority.  

  It was a busy day, and it is not over yet. I have just walked the dog – walk preceded by a serious fight to put his coat on – he’s freezing but he considers that the respective coat is meant to be a toy for him.

Lately, he discovered new enemies: first the planes cruising above, then the moon and now the stars. How can he spot them is beyond me but he considers it is his bound duty to chase them away barking like crazy. Yes, funny, but not after 11 pm when most people are already in bed. I always shrink when I hear him barking at the moon or at planes. I always imagine that someone would come out and unleash their fury for being disturbed. We’ve been lucky so far. No one bothered.

Tomorrow is another day. A lot of things to do, a new struggle to dress the dog, the child would want exactly what I haven’t cooked and so on. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.