The C-Train

I could make this one about public transit in general, but there would just be too much to say. Plus the C-train really grinds my gears. It also induces vomiting. (Okay, not so much vomiting as severe nausea.)

People ask me why I use the bus for commuting to and from work instead of the train. The bus can take up to three times as long, depending on traffic. The bus also costs more, since with the bus you have to use a ticket every time. (Our LRT operates on the honour system - you are expected to buy a ticket and there are random surprise checks to strike the fear of God into people. If, however, you travel during rush hour with 10,000 other commuters there is some safety in numbers and many people I know don't buy tickets for rush hour transit). The bus driver makes you show a ticket.

Here's why I take the bus:
On Monday I wanted to go to the mall by my house after work, which also happens to be my train stop. So at ten after 5, I squeezed myself onto the C-Train. As usual, we are packed in like sardines in a can. I had managed to make myself a nice little bubble until the next stop and a couple dozen more people crammed themselves in.

If you know me, you know I HATE the sound of snot. I hate sniffling, I hate nose-blowing, I just hate it. That I can visualize your gross snotty snot running all over the place just.. ugh! (Which is why, out of consideration, I will never blow my nose in front of you.)

Well the lady to the left of me cozies up to my ear and begins to sniffle. And I'm not talking shy little sniffles. I'm talking full on, nose brimming with mucous sniffles. In my ear. So I shift to my right slightly. The guy in front of me also has the sniffles. His sniffles are worse than he thinks, and his little polite sniffles are not cutting it because now he has snot running onto his lip. So I turn back to my left. The lady on my left decides once and for all, with one thundering sniffle, she is going to get her snot under control. In my ear. So I quickly shift back to my right just in time to see the guy in front of me (who is now looking down at his I-Pad) has a long thick stream of snot dangling from his nose. I could have vomitted on the spot. But since the unspoken rules of social etiquette are not a mystery to me, I did not throw up all over my fellow C-train riders. I gagged quietly to myself, looked at the ceiling, and tried to think happy thoughts.

You would think that the majority of the people on the C-Train would be people like you and I. Regular, decent, polite, not entirely socially inept, folk coming to and from work. Especially during rush hour. But this is not the case. There are countless horror stories that could be told about the hygiene, the B.O., the crazies, the gropers, and shovers, and backpacks and strollers. The bus might take longer, and sure there's always a drunk or two, but at least I don't have to throw elbows to fight my way on or off, and I have the space to sit unmolested and read a book quietly in my own seat. And if someone is dripping snot onto my lap, I can give them a dirty look and move to a different seat further away on the bus.