If you’re lucky enough to commute from Hamilton to Toronto (aka Etobicoke, aka ‘the West end’ aka ‘New Toronto’) each day for work, inevitably a routine is established.
For the record, I pass the Toronto water tower every morning, so it’s Toronto to me.
This is how my routine goes.
I take the alleged 6:18 from Hamilton, switching trains in Panem taking the alleged 7:00, and then end up at Long Branch station.
This morning my dad asks; “So, when you get off the train at Long Branch, do you gotta take a bus or something?”
I tell him I take a streetcar.
We both erupt into laughter.
He adds some choice words that make this blog sound unprofessional and rude, so I neglect to add them.
Commuting strife is a constant source of mutual amusement.
I appreciate this humour because it forms the basis of my blog.
Dad continues; “Ya, remember when you worked so close to home?!? That was good!”
Yes. I remember.
Because I pass by my former place of employment twice a day.
And he reminds me of this an additional 5 times more.
This conversation reminds me of tonight’s in class lesson; Old Power vs. New Power. I could go into depth about this topic, but I only have so long on the train ride.
I also only get paid for in class teaching hours.
So here’s the Coles notes:
Old Power pertains to the old way of work.
Keeping a job you hate because it pays.
Drinking hard liquor after work to combat work stress.
New Power pertains to the new way of work.
Working smarter, not harder.
Leaving a job you hate even though it pays well.
Writing a passive aggressive blog to combat work stress.
Back at the Long Branch ranch, you get off the train, walk across the parking lot, cut across a hidden street, walk parallel to the streetcars and end up at Long Branch loop.
That’s if you didn’t get hit during any of those obstacles.
Depending on your level of apathy, you may notice inconsistencies during said commute.
Like the time I noticed exhibit A:
The lone shoe. I shamefully admit because of my own apathy, I’ve passed by this shoe, not giving it much thought.
Four days later, I decide to snap out of my trance and realize this shoe may hold many secrets, like the key to effective commuting.
Equal parts Horatio, Hotch and Gil Grissom, I begin my investigation.
How did this shoe get here?
Should I call the authorities?
Has a pattern been established of single shoes within the perimeter of the area?
If I call Penelope pretending to be Derek, will she solve the crime and give me all the glory?
What kind of moron loses a single shoe?
So many questions, so little time.
I hover over this evidence, hands on hips, head tilted and think I’m a “Shoe-in” to solve this crime.
Horatio would be so proud.
The ground beneath me feels like it’s rumbling.
Suddenly it all makes sense.
I know what happened to this person.
Clearly he disintegrated, waiting for a connecting train.
I’m so proud for solving the crime, I reward myself with a donut.
Just like a real Police Officer.