Riding the TTC

Riding the TTC

In grade 4 and 5, school buses were nicely given/offered to the children of Dunlace. Everyday, a child could just walk to the nearest school, and then board the bus. Though come grade 6, students must take the TTC (Toronto Transit Commission). It may seem unfair, why do grades 4+5 get school buses? However, school buses cost money and the money comes from us (from fundraisers). Besides, grade sixes (11- year-olds) are capable to cope on their own, something I’ll be doing this year.

The schedule

One day, I was going to school with one of my friends, Kaitlyn. We were quite confident, and we knew the route perfectly. We were waiting for the 115-bus happily. After some time, there was noting left to do. We now waited anxiously for the bus to arrive, until we noticed a TTC bus time map of the 115-bus. The time? 8: 25. The next bus? What? 8: 55! That’s 5 minutes before school starts! We looked at each other and thought the same thing. Trouble was in the air, and the birds chirped mockingly. The green grass looked yellow, for some unknown reason. The cool unexpected breeze blew ever so gently on the crispy leaves. I could’ve sworn that they were whispering: Uh, oh, uh oh… As seconds ticked by, our hope lessened, until it was but a single thread, about to snap. Then the question lingered. Should we walk? School was just a few hundred meters away. Just as fast as that thought came, another one popped into my mind. Did this ever happen, where a frustrating type of feeling comes? It screams, “Don’t go! The bus will come, once you leave!” The minute you leave the bus just might come.

We were on the verge of leaving, when something caught our eyes. Another bus was slowly turning towards us. The rustle of the leaves ceased and the birds fell silent. Our eyes averted towards the number on the bus. Alas! It was 115! However, it wasn’t quite 8:55 yet. It was actually 8: 31. No one else was at the bus stop and we marched on, silently thanking the driver. He had white hair, slightly curled at the end. His face lit up with a smile that brings hope. It lifts your spirit, sky-high. Most of the other drivers would stare straight ahead, ignoring, though acknowledging your existence. However, he would smile his smile and nod his head after seeing our transfers. His face would say gently, “Hello! I see your ticket/transfer! Come aboard my bus, and I’ll take you to school!” His face brings sunshine to a stormy day. His eyes glitter and sparkle at the sight of the word’s future. His whole body screams, “I’M NICE!” He came early (or maybe the time sheet is wrong) but most importantly, we were saved from deciding whether to walk or not. He saved and also repaired our beaten souls.

After that, he was the daily/regular 115-bus driver. Each day, he would smile and nod, and smile and nod. We were eager to go to school everyday. Once, Kaitlyn couldn’t find her transfer. She stood outside, searching for it. The driver gestured to her, Come inside! So she stepped in, still frantically finding he piece of paper that was so important. He motioned, Stop! while saying, “It’s OK. You can go sit down. I know you have to go to school.” Kaitlyn said thank you and bounded over. The birds were whistling a happy little tune all the way to school.

That went on for a long time. We had no more worries about getting to school. Then on one special day, “it” happened. The air was freezing and our breath created a puff of misty smoke each time we exhaled. We were still confident once again not knowing what was to come. The temperature dropped suddenly. Was a ghost passing by? Hugging our jackets close, we strained our eyes over the horizon, seeking the bus in vain. 95-buses zoomed past with an occasional 5-bus, crushing our spirit into smithereens. 2 other pedestrians came over to the bus stop, 10 minutes after us. They too, were bundled in their jackets. The air was biting our skin senseless. Then a bus pulled over, slowly, once again with the number 115 flashing on top. The nice guy came to the rescue again! We lined up, with the 2 other people in front. When the bus was close enough, we noticed it wasn’t the nice guy! The new driver opened the door, let the 2 people in, and then shut the door before Kaitlyn and I could get in. We couldn’t stand the cold any longer. Our fingers were about to fall off!!! Not even 10 minutes passed before another 115-bus came. It was strange, for a 115-bus only comes every 15­­-20 minutes. I caught a glimpse at the driver’s face-it was the nice guy!! Kaitlyn and I cheered inside. He let us in with the same smiley face. The heater was on-Thank God! and we toasted our iced fingers.