Sunday, November 21, 2010

Why I Hate Trains

So last weekend, I visited my home for the first time since I left for university. I’ve been to my cottage since I left, but not my actual house. Every time I’ve been to visit my cottage, one of my parents would pick my up from campus and drive me to the cottage, and drive me back on Monday (I gave myself Mondays off…making your own schedule FTW!). Anyways, so this time I had to go all the way back to Toronto, and my parents were NOT up for the drive. So instead, I became responsible for getting myself home. I was to either take a bus or a train. My dad decided that I should take a train because it would be more comfortable and easier to get work done. He did some research for me and found something that would allow me to have 6 train rides for a cheaper price if I were a student. Which I am. So I went to get an ISIC (International Students Identity Card) which would prove that I was indeed a student. I filled out a form, got my picture taken for five dollars, and was told to return in 2 days. In the meantime, I went online to book my train. The train on the way to Toronto was already booked so I had to pay a higher price to get a train that wasn’t part of my discount. I did get the return trip booked with my pass though. So instead of using up 2 of my 6 trips I used up 1.

Anyways, the day of the trip came and as usual, I procrastinated and rushed at the last minute to pack my things. Luckily I had already found directions to the train station the day before and printed them off, so I vaguely knew where I was going. There were two different routes I could take, one significantly less complicated, but longer. But here was the problem: my train was supposed to leave at 5, and I was supposed to pick up my tickets half an hour in advance. It was about 3:45 when I left the room, and providing the buses came right away, it would take me about a half hour to get there. Therefore, I could not afford to be picky about which bus to take. I would have to take whichever one came first. I ended up having to wait quite a while for one to show up. Guess which one came first? Obviously the infinitely more difficult one. OBVIOUSLY. Thanks, universe. So I get on the bus and at this point it’s about 4:20 already. I’m panicking. I get to the transfer point and it turns out to be some sort of strange bus station. A million buses come, but not the one I need. I swear like thirty 95 buses came to the stop before my 124.

It was about 4:48 by the time I got to the station. I ran for the ticket booth, and luckily there was only one other person there, who happened to be leaving the line just as I arrived. I got my tickets within a minute or two. The following section was written to my boyfriend over MSN, shortly after the incident occurred. They had Wi-Fi on the train and I explained the situation to him as soon as I was settled in. I am showing you this unedited copy instead of writing it out properly in order to give you a more accurate account of how I was feeling at the time. Here is what happened:

-          so i was on the bus
-          then i had to switch
-          the transfer was only supposed to take about five minutes
-          but it took like 10 or so before the bus came
-          then i got to the station
-          got my tickets
-          and the train was leaving in like 8 minutes
-          so im like
-          shit
-          i gotta run.
-          FAST
-          now this is where it gets weird
-          i see a sign that says Toronto
-          i follow the arrows
-          i get to the last arrow and i pull open the doors
-          but
-          the only thing there
-          was escalators...going DOWN
-          so i stood there for a second
-          there was one escalator
-          going down..towards me. i needed to go UP
-          i checked to see if there was a reverse button
-          to make it switch directions so i could go up
-          there wasnt.
-          so
-          i stood there for a minute
-          just
-          contemplating what i should do
-          i knew what i had to do
-          i RAN at the escalator
-          and fought it
-          i ran up while it pushed me down
-          i ran really really hard
-          i was beating it
-          i was almost at the top
-          BAM i lost my balance
-          and started to fall
-          but i knew that if i fell
-          not only would i be back at the bottom but i would be seriously hurt
-          so i got back up as fast as i could
-          I had fallen five or six steps
-          the adrenaline rush kept it from hurting
-          so i RAN to the nearest train
-          and i asked some guy in it if i was on the right train
-          he was like omg no you want that one WAY over there
-          i was like fuuuuuuck
-          he pointed out where to go
-          i ran across the tracks
-          not being able to breathe
-          from all the running
-          the guy i showed my ticket to said i wanted the car that is two doors down
-          i sprinted
-          i made it on
-          and then i noticed the knee of my pants was ripped from the escalator fall
-          and i was like goddammit a perfectly good pair of pants
-          and when i was on the phone with you i put my hand on the rip
-          and when i moved my hand away there was blood.
-          anyways the end.
-          im sorry :(
-          its okay T.T
-          oh and now that the adrenaline rush is gone my knee stings like a bitch
-          and my arms are killing me too from running with three bags
-          and i cant breathe from all the running
-          im so sorry :(
-          I HATE TRAINS

Note: The purple text is me and the teal is my boyfriend.

So anyway. It was quite an adventure. My knee still has a big ugly M-shaped cut on it. I took some pictures of it right after it happened and I shall post one. Do NOT click the following link if you don’t want to see my injury:

In case you were wondering, the visit home was delightful, and I wasn’t late on my way back. However, annoyingly enough, when I arrived back here I went down the SAME set of escalators I ran up a few days earlier. Also, I took the other route back home and it turns out the 95 bus would have also taken me to the train station.

And THAT’S why I hate trains.


Anonymous said...

Great story! You need to update your blog though.. (Its been Like a month)

-from the anony reader

Terence said...

When one is not used to a public transport, then should travel with a person who is familiar with the public transport.

Anonymous said...

So... Your hatred of trains has nothing to do with trains. Interesting.

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