ttc
Humanity in the Midst of Chaos
TTC, our public transit in Toronto, is a wild character of its own. Here’s part one of its series.
a medical emergency is announced
happening at College Station,
a swarm of commuters is stranded at Union,
it’s the despicable rush hour,
some doom scroll on their phones,
others fall in confused silence,
some call their spouses or kids
alerting them of their tardiness,
others explain the chaotic situation
to their disoriented peers,
while two transit personnels warm,
“Step away from the yellow line!
Step away from the yellow line!” —
as they zing by the crowd,
the entire platform is packed,
hijacked with frustration, patience,
and a bit of shock all at once,
whereas, I, knowing it will be fine,
I stay put without budging —
just imagining how I would
make my dinner as a reward.
finally, they tell us to go upstairs
and take the opposite direction,
southbound train is traveling northbound
and vice versa,
the operator makes a blasting
announcement over and over again,
it’s the first time I hear it this loud,
reverberating through the jammed humans
struggling to breathe to survive
the hullabaloo,
and the train motor is on,
the trip home is possible under
such an unprecedented circumstance.
a nicely dressed lady who’s probably
in her sixties squeezes herself in from
Queen Station,
she stands beside me, nonchalant,
though I can tell she’s dying,
a guy sitting near me blows his nose
in the midst of wild silence; a woman
responds by clearing her throat as if to say,
“You’re disgusting!”, but the guy proceeds
to blow his nose again… and again… and again…,
the woman stays silent, she has lost the game,
there’s a woman reading a book
seated right before me,
she keeps wiping off her forehead
out of dread, she acts like she’s special,
meanwhile, the nicely dressed woman
wheezes and lowers her head,
then turns to me,
I ask her, “Are you okay?”
her pupils dilate, she looks like
she’s about to fait,
and she responds, “No.”
without hesitation, I look around to spot
an unbothered soul,
I find a man sitting comfortably
in the corner,
listening to his ear phones with his
eyes closed,
I gently disturb him and he opens his
kind eyes,
I say, “Can she take your seat? She’s not
feeling well.”
Instantly, he perks up and gets on his feet,
“Oh, sure!”
and the nicely dressed lady goes to
take over his seat, “Thank you,” she utters,
I lock eyes with the kind spirit and mouth,
“Thank you.”
he nods as his sincerity breezes through
the crowd.
I get off the train after moments of breaths
and heartbeats; tedious yet worth it.
After an hour of drowsy bus ride, I get
home and ask myself, “now, what was
my dinner? Dang, I thought I had already
planned it out, but I lost track of my
memory along the way.”
Oh, well, it’s just one of those days.
Another day of being alive to keep in
my memory.
Regardless.
