I went to an Office party in a sketchy area of downtown Toronto, and upon returning to my car, I found a parking ticket on my windshield. The infraction? Remaining in a "two hour free parking zone" for two hours and nine minutes.
Now, I'm not denying that I deserve the fine, but really - don't cops in downtown Toronto have better things to go at 10:30 p.m. than issue parking tickets for a nine-minute infraction? I'd expect something like this in Burlington, but I'd think Toronto police would have more to do to keep them busy.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Friday, September 14, 2007
panda cam
I am watching a baby panda toss and turn in a dark room all by himself. I think he wants his mommy, but she's no where to be seen. He doesn't even have a pillow or a blanket.
It's the saddest thing I've seen in a while.
It's the saddest thing I've seen in a while.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Commuter Blues
10:52 a.m.
After my less-than-luxurious experience living in Toronto’s more appropriately priced accommodations (ie. Fruit fly infested student co-op for the low low price of $499.99/month) I decided to move back home to good, clean, never-done-me-no-wrong Burlington and commute. I grossly underestimated the intricacies involved with commuting. It’s no walk in the park. Considering never in my childhood did I even have to endure riding a bus to school, I was terribly uninformed of the seedy world of commuting. It’s been six days (plus weekends) of commuting and here are my findings:
Day One: Upon arriving at the Appleby GO station a smart 20 minutes before the train was due to depart for The City, I was saddened to realize that no one had informed me of what I’ll call the “First of the Month Riot” in which everyone who commutes lines up at 4 a.m. (similar to a U2 concert or the opening of the Harry Potter movies) to get their monthly passes. I had no idea. I waited in line for 35 minutes and missed my train, waited another half-hour for the next one and arrive in The City approximately five minutes before my first class of my first day of Second Year started. Then I was herded onto the subway, tunneled four stops and then resorted to sprinting to campus and then to my classroom which, as Murphy’s Law dictates, was on the fourth floor of a four-floor building and the elevators were no where to be seen. Next, just like in the movies, I burst into my classroom out of breath, beet red and being stared at by all the prudent students who had arrived on time and were not foiled by the Greater Toronto Area transit system. “I missed my train,” I stammered sheepishly as I took my walk of shame to the back of the class and tried to pretend that I was not there.
Day Three: It’s a Thursday and I have exactly one hour of class and, because the GO schedule is not conducive to a university student, about 3.5 hours of potential commuting (I am including wait time in the commuting estimate. ie. Time spent waiting for the train, waiting for the subway, walking to class and waiting outside said classroom because the train deposited me there 45 minutes before class actually started.) Being the problem-solving go-getter that I am, I decided that I would drive in; assuming that most of the traffic would be over by the time I left at nine (most people start work at nine, right?) Just to be safe and appease my mother, I left my house at 8:30 figuring I would have plenty of time to get there before my 10:10 class. I was wrong. I didn’t get off the Gardiner Expressway until 10:10 (presumably when my 19th Century Literature professor would begin handing out the course outlines) and it took me another 15 minutes to get to campus (about three blocks, two kilometers at most) and another 10 minutes of looking frantically for a place to park. At this point, I knew I had at least a five minute walk to class ahead of me and another day of shame from walking in inexcusably late, so, frustrated and cursing, I turned my ’97 Lumina right around and drove right home, a drive which took me less than 25 minutes. Next Thursday, I will be taking the train.
Day Four: Monday. I manage to fool the train into not sabotaging my efforts at a post-secondary education but somehow get lost in the underground PATH. I ended up in the TD Canada Trust building. Did, however, manage to reroute myself and arrive at class on time (early, even!)
Random observations of commuters:
- The “veterans” seem to know exactly where the train will stop on the landing, despite there being no written sign, and cluster in groups (approx. fifteen feet apart) where the train doors will halt and open. They are always right. How do they do it?
- Everyone listens to headphones or sleeps, thus not hearing the conductor announcing stops, and yet all seem to know instinctively when to rise and get off the train (more interesting on the return trip, as it’s pretty obvious when the train hits Union Station but not so at say, Port Credit.)
- Extreme measures are taken to not come into contact with anyone else on the train. If possible, you find a four-seat bay that is completely empty and claim it for your own, sitting in the seat closest to the aisle (thus, people would have to step over you to get to another seat, which is deterring. Note: Many move to the window seat once the train begins to move.) and if possible, fill the surrounding seats with your personal property, to act as a deterrent to potential seatmates. If an empty bay is not possible, then find one with only one other person and sit diagonally across from them. Avoid all eye contact. In the unfortunate event that you must sit directly across or next to someone (or worse, both) you compact your body into the smallest possible size, put on headphones and again, avoid eye contact.
Day Six. Today. Wednesday. As Ryerson decided to give me a four-hour break in between my classes, I am currently sitting in a Starbucks (stereotypically updating my blog, or rather, a temporarily placed Word doc) waiting for both a bookstore next-door to open so I can spend even more money on my education and for Anna to call so we can meet for lunch and I can have some of the human interaction that I lacked on the train.
Random thought: I must learn how to hack into others’ wireless networks. There’s only so much I can do in this Starbucks without being able to tap into Facebook Scrabble and the 905 board. I can’t even update my blog in a timely manner. At least I have Macbook with me. I suppose I could always do some reading, but how fun is that?
Random thought #2: The Village is a really nice area. I wish I lived here. It’s safe and clean and there are rainbows on the street signs.
After my less-than-luxurious experience living in Toronto’s more appropriately priced accommodations (ie. Fruit fly infested student co-op for the low low price of $499.99/month) I decided to move back home to good, clean, never-done-me-no-wrong Burlington and commute. I grossly underestimated the intricacies involved with commuting. It’s no walk in the park. Considering never in my childhood did I even have to endure riding a bus to school, I was terribly uninformed of the seedy world of commuting. It’s been six days (plus weekends) of commuting and here are my findings:
Day One: Upon arriving at the Appleby GO station a smart 20 minutes before the train was due to depart for The City, I was saddened to realize that no one had informed me of what I’ll call the “First of the Month Riot” in which everyone who commutes lines up at 4 a.m. (similar to a U2 concert or the opening of the Harry Potter movies) to get their monthly passes. I had no idea. I waited in line for 35 minutes and missed my train, waited another half-hour for the next one and arrive in The City approximately five minutes before my first class of my first day of Second Year started. Then I was herded onto the subway, tunneled four stops and then resorted to sprinting to campus and then to my classroom which, as Murphy’s Law dictates, was on the fourth floor of a four-floor building and the elevators were no where to be seen. Next, just like in the movies, I burst into my classroom out of breath, beet red and being stared at by all the prudent students who had arrived on time and were not foiled by the Greater Toronto Area transit system. “I missed my train,” I stammered sheepishly as I took my walk of shame to the back of the class and tried to pretend that I was not there.
Day Three: It’s a Thursday and I have exactly one hour of class and, because the GO schedule is not conducive to a university student, about 3.5 hours of potential commuting (I am including wait time in the commuting estimate. ie. Time spent waiting for the train, waiting for the subway, walking to class and waiting outside said classroom because the train deposited me there 45 minutes before class actually started.) Being the problem-solving go-getter that I am, I decided that I would drive in; assuming that most of the traffic would be over by the time I left at nine (most people start work at nine, right?) Just to be safe and appease my mother, I left my house at 8:30 figuring I would have plenty of time to get there before my 10:10 class. I was wrong. I didn’t get off the Gardiner Expressway until 10:10 (presumably when my 19th Century Literature professor would begin handing out the course outlines) and it took me another 15 minutes to get to campus (about three blocks, two kilometers at most) and another 10 minutes of looking frantically for a place to park. At this point, I knew I had at least a five minute walk to class ahead of me and another day of shame from walking in inexcusably late, so, frustrated and cursing, I turned my ’97 Lumina right around and drove right home, a drive which took me less than 25 minutes. Next Thursday, I will be taking the train.
Day Four: Monday. I manage to fool the train into not sabotaging my efforts at a post-secondary education but somehow get lost in the underground PATH. I ended up in the TD Canada Trust building. Did, however, manage to reroute myself and arrive at class on time (early, even!)
Random observations of commuters:
- The “veterans” seem to know exactly where the train will stop on the landing, despite there being no written sign, and cluster in groups (approx. fifteen feet apart) where the train doors will halt and open. They are always right. How do they do it?
- Everyone listens to headphones or sleeps, thus not hearing the conductor announcing stops, and yet all seem to know instinctively when to rise and get off the train (more interesting on the return trip, as it’s pretty obvious when the train hits Union Station but not so at say, Port Credit.)
- Extreme measures are taken to not come into contact with anyone else on the train. If possible, you find a four-seat bay that is completely empty and claim it for your own, sitting in the seat closest to the aisle (thus, people would have to step over you to get to another seat, which is deterring. Note: Many move to the window seat once the train begins to move.) and if possible, fill the surrounding seats with your personal property, to act as a deterrent to potential seatmates. If an empty bay is not possible, then find one with only one other person and sit diagonally across from them. Avoid all eye contact. In the unfortunate event that you must sit directly across or next to someone (or worse, both) you compact your body into the smallest possible size, put on headphones and again, avoid eye contact.
Day Six. Today. Wednesday. As Ryerson decided to give me a four-hour break in between my classes, I am currently sitting in a Starbucks (stereotypically updating my blog, or rather, a temporarily placed Word doc) waiting for both a bookstore next-door to open so I can spend even more money on my education and for Anna to call so we can meet for lunch and I can have some of the human interaction that I lacked on the train.
Random thought: I must learn how to hack into others’ wireless networks. There’s only so much I can do in this Starbucks without being able to tap into Facebook Scrabble and the 905 board. I can’t even update my blog in a timely manner. At least I have Macbook with me. I suppose I could always do some reading, but how fun is that?
Random thought #2: The Village is a really nice area. I wish I lived here. It’s safe and clean and there are rainbows on the street signs.
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