A tale of two bus stops…..

I was traveling back and forth to Toronto this past week.  I was up early and out the door before 6:30 and in my seat in the Toronto classroom where I was taking a week-long facilitation course by 8:30.  This is remarkable given the difficulty I’ve had getting up to hit the gym.  Hmmmm…..

Taking the bus to Toronto is always an interesting study in human dynamics.  The stop I live closest to is the last stop out of town.  It’s the stop that has the drop-offs, those who get a ride to the Tim Horton’s on the corner or those who come from further west of Hwy 403 via public transit.  It’s an anonymous stop, at the corner of a big and busy intersection, bordered by parking lots and fast food outlets; there are no trees, only signs for shade.

At this bus stop, the last one out of town, it’s survival of the fittest.  This stop services multiple bus lines so there are usually lots of people standing around waiting for their bus to show up.  There is no “line” and when a bus comes, those who want it seemingly come from nowhere and surge forward around the bus doors. There is no system to ensure first come, first served.  Who cares?  The other day I was the first at the stop but the last on the bus.  But I’m not bitter….

And I get it; a seat is a precious commodity during the busy morning rush.  People stand.  I won’t stand.  I did that once, years ago and won’t do it again.   I don’t think anyone else wants to either, and this is the last stop out of town, I think I said that.  So, you have to have a certain amount of pushiness to succeed at this stop.

But if on those days I have to go to Toronto I take a couple of extra steps backwards, that is, hike up King Street to the stop at Strathcona, it’s an entirely different experience.   This stop is at the southwest corner of Victoria Park and is under a canopy of tall leafy trees.  There are only a few people, usually from the neighbourhood or regulars who park at the park.  And although no line formed at the stop, people knew who had arrived there before them.  There was an awareness among those who were waiting of who came next.  Talk about civilized.

But it doesn’t matter what stop you get on at, unless it’s the downtown terminal at John and Hunter where you can always count on a line, getting on is only part of the challenge.  Getting a seat is another.

For some reason, people resist using the overhead bins to store their backpacks and choose, instead, to use their belongings to “protect” the seat next to them from anyone sitting in it.  It’s a bizarre social phenomenon and makes me wonder at our sense of community and how we resist opportunities to connect with each other.  Not only will people put their bags and packs on the seat next to them, they will, as passengers board and look about for a seat, refuse to make eye contact, usually by looking out the window (at the line of people waiting to get on perhaps?).  If you want a seat you have to ask for it.  And when you do get one, it’s given grudgingly.

I find that particularly infuriating and have tried to understand it.  I think that this same sense of space invasion is why people prefer to drive cars rather than take public transit.  They fear the intrusion into their bi-cubic metre of air that surrounds their skin.  Somebody with cooties might touch them, maybe even ask them a question they don’t want to, or can’t, answer.  The most noticeable feature of first-class travel is great big seats, lots of room away from your neighbour.

And that’s too bad.  It’s sad that we should be so resistant to sharing, especially what we have no right to hoard.  I want to ask them, just out of curiosity, did you pay for that seat?  Why do you think you’re entitled to it?  Just how unaware are you of the situation you’re in: a rapidly filling bus with people looking for somewhere to sit.  And your bag is on a seat.  And you resist moving it.  Why?

What is your problem?