I noticed him because he sat with the sort of posture that eluded most of the adult passengers in the car, and a stillness impossible for others of his age. He was a small Portuguese boy; his hair was the colour of coffee with milk, cut short and neat, shiny and fine. H . . . (More)

Lately, it seems the TTC suffers ever more mechanical problems with its streetcars. Yesterday, as the last passenger struggled off at Queen, the doors seemed to linger a moment, before suddenly slamming shut with more force than usual, causing a loud, rattling bang -- which made one man, in a . . . (More)

Today, I saw the blind leading the blind.They were an elderly Chinese couple -- he was tall, and sported a long, scraggly beard in the manner of wise men; she wore her hair bound back in a colourfully embroidered wrap, like the women of her homeland. They both grasped canes, but he led; as the su . . . (More)

Urban chivalry: I'm standing on the escalator descending towards St. Patrick station when I notice the suit of the man in front of me -- soft grey, with subtle but distinct pinstripes. He's laden with things; he carries a load of folders under one arm, and like so many businessmen in the city, ho . . . (More)

As I board the streetcar, I glance around, to see that the only other passenger is a TTC officer, dressed in full grey and maroon regalia. There is a protective white wrapper over his hat -- probably for the rain earlier in the day. He looks at me with clear, light eyes; they stand out against . . . (More)

Tuesday evening. St. Patrick's subway station. As the doors close and the train begins to pick up speed, the unmistakable buzz of the public announcement system clicks on. I wait for the usual "Next station, Osgoode. Osgoode station." Chh. Chh. Chh.Testing, testing, one two three, I think.Chh- . . . (More)

She wore very conservative, plain black heels (neither kitten nor stiletto) and a long, London Fog-type silky trenchcoat, belted firmly at the waist -- 1990s business classic. Across her pale, creased face were unremarkable spectacles, and a pinched expression. She looked like a bitch in its true . . . (More)

I have been enjoying the services of the TTC on almost every day for over two years -- and including today, I have now encountered on it a total of two people clipping their nails (finger or toe: unknown).That is two too many.Gross.

The man sitting behind me on the streetcar had been chatting with his companion for a little while. Feeling gloomy, I listened attentively, not to his words but to his voice; it reminded me of sleek velvet. I was gazing out of the window when the streetcar sailed by a woman idling on the spot wit . . . (More)

Morning commutes are to be savoured.There is a certain freshness to the riders that is unique to the hour; it fades as the morning passes, and has completely dissipated by the end of the day. Everyone is fresh from bed, fresh from the bath, fresh from their context. Different as they . . . (More)