This morning, I look up from my usual Danny Zucco/ Baby from Dirty Dancing saunter and see this sign:


I get this feeling of euphoria, the kind you get when work is closed because of an alleged snow day or asbestos.

HAM! That way>>>>

Amazing!

You see, I’ve suspected for quite some time there should be free pork on the GO Train. If anything, to compensate for the lies and tribulations presented to us commuters.

Let’s face the facts; this organization is obviously run by like minded execs that make a cameo verbal appearance in Steve Martin’s Father of The Bride,  circa 1991;

“I’ll tell you what I’m doing. I want to buy eight hot dogs and eight hot dog buns to go with them. But no one sells eight hot dog buns. They only sell twelve hot dog buns. So I end up paying for four buns I don’t need. So I am removing the superfluous buns. Yeah. And you want to know why? Because some big-shot over at the wiener company got together with some big-shot over at the bun company and decided to rip off the American public. Because they think the American public is a bunch of trusting nit-wits who will pay for everything they don’t need rather than make a stink. Well they’re not ripping of this nitwit anymore because I’m not paying for one more thing I don’t need. George Banks is saying NO!”

A classic nervous breakdown.

That would never happen in 2016 because George Banks would be highly medicated with a myriad of anti-depressants, and, when’s the last time you saw an actual person stocking a shelf at the grocery store?

As if on cue, my train just stopped for no reason.

Even the train gets me.

I might take a pause so he (I’m not trying to discriminate here, but this machine is large, slow and inarticulate so I took a stab) will catch up.

And, we’re back.

I just realized there’s no pork of any kind. Not even the end cuts to make hot dogs.

A guy just tripped on a step in front of me. It’s like he’s made this realization too.

His shoes make quite the sound up here in the quiet zone.

I mull over reporting him.

That’s going to take an extra level of cardio I’m not comfortable with.

I leave him be.

I’m gracious like that.

I digress.

This morning has already started off on a very bad note for me so why not continue the misery?

No HAM. No pork. No bacon, ribs or chops. Signage can be so deceiving.

Obviously, this sign does not represent a short form of my hometown Hamilton, because it’s pointing the wrong way towards Toronto. Right?

I also didn’t realize Toronto first became a city in 2015, which is indicated with this sign.

Apologies for my ignorance.

If the little man portrayed on the bottom left of the sign is intending to get to HAM or ham (I don’t know which is which) he will be sorely disappointed.

He appears to be on foot.

I smile.

Clearly he’s found a more effective means of commuter transportation.

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7 thoughts on “When signage lies…

  1. You are a witty genius! I laughed out loud when I was reading this and my wife was like what what what and I couldn’t stop lauding. Thank you so much for making my day.

    Like

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