The PenOpticon

I’ve gushed over York Region’s VIVA bus system since the beginning. I know all of the transit cops by sight and have watched them take down quite a few mugs who gambled they could ride without paying for the privilege. Today was different, however. Today, the bus was a standing-room only affair– we were packed in like a full drawer of socks. (These were mostly First Year socks, about to begin their first day at York University). There was no room even for a cop to move down the aisle to check for cheaters and no room for a passenger to pull out a ticket stub with out elbowing a neighbour in the soft bits. But then, why would a transit cop ride the crowded east-west Purple route when there are plenty of half-empty north-south Blue buses to check?

When we were about to turn south on Keele Street, I could see that it was completely clogged with traffic. I could also see that according to the VIVA digital display another bus was due in six minutes. So I pushed my way out and waited. Adding a few minutes to the trip in exchange for the possibility of an actual seat seemed like a worthwhile trade, especially since I could use the time to enjoy the morning sunshine and gulp air that had not just been humidified in the lungs of a hundred other people.

But when the next bus arrived, it didn’t actually arrive! It just kept-on-a-goin’. I waived to the driver to stop and he merely shrugged and pointed at the passengers standing in his considerably less-crowded bus. “NOOOOooooooooooohhhhh”, I sad, using a choice four-letter word. “Big deal”, you say, “so the bus never stopped.” I agree — this has happened to me many times while riding the TTC, but this was a VIVA bus, a hight-tech, award-winning system! If such technology can’t save us, then what will?

So I walked the last five kilometres to work, stopping briefly to photograph the Inflatable Wailing Man that stands outside Cousin Vinny’s Discount Emporium. Today I felt just like that guy, only I’m considerably shorter and fatter:

Leaving the Wailing Man behind, I walked south on Keele past the usual maze of industrial complexes and warehouses, past the 404 toll way and over the Canadian National tracks. It wasn’t so bad. The Fall wildflowers are blooming. The Monarchs are still bopping along, slowly moving southward. The air was even breathable. The industrial din was not so good, though. The cacophony of a Toronto rush hour is a terrible thing to inflict on the human ear.

Maybe I’ll ride the bike tomorrow, though I know I’ll soon ride VIVA again. The sad thing is that too many commuter students give rapid transit a short trial and then quickly opt for cars. If only VIVA would run a few of their larger articulated buses during rush hour, then those students might just stick with the bus. If not, then in a few weeks, there’ll be more room for wailing fat guys like me ;-)