As a second-year student, you would think that I would have a bunch of favourite university memories. However, that isn’t the case, as I was a commuter. This is why if you are not a commuter, you won’t understand this story or when I say I had only so many hours in a day before having to hop onto Line 1 and make my way home. I was the type of student who was in and out like a thief. While I don’t know what the “nightlife” was like on campus, in 2019, I was a master train traveller. I knew every shortcut and could get anywhere from anywhere. Even if I didn’t know where I was, all I needed to do was to find the nearest train station and I was golden. 

As a commuter, I experienced crazy things. Maybe not an insane serial killer who forces an old policeman to murder passengers if he didn’t play the game right, as was in the plot of the 2018 film The Commuter, but if I were to pick my favourite memory from my first year at the University of Toronto, it would be December 8th, the night I was kicked off the train.  

I am sure I speak for all commuters when I say that we hate when there is an emergency on the rails. That could be a person falling into the gap or a dangerous individual. Of course, these emergencies are dire and should be treated with caution, but when they occur, you have no idea what is happening; all you know is that you’re being kicked off the train car and are forced to find your way home. 

That was my situation one cold Wednesday, December night. Students from my blogging course had just concluded our field trip. After waving goodbye to our professor, two of my friends and I entered Dundas Station.  

This is when I made my first mistake. Maybe I was too exhausted from walking or distracted by my conversations with my friends, but I didn’t realize I had stepped onto the southbound train with them. In case you are unfamiliar, a southbound train from Dundas will take you down to Union Station, and eventually back to the St. George campus. This was bad news considering I was trying to go north.  

It wasn’t until one of my friends pointed it out did I realize I was going the wrong way.  

By that point, I was already panicking and getting frustrated with myself for not paying attention. But I wasn’t worried. All I had to do was get off at the next station, hop on a northbound train and make my way home. I got off at St. Andrew, and got on the train, took a seat and waited for it to move. 

But it didn’t. Apparently, there was a delay. I assured myself that that was normal, as delays happen all the time. Except that particular delay lagged on forever.  

This is where I made my second mistake. If only I had realized that I could have stayed on the train going south I could have reached St. George, switched lines and travelled to Bloor-Yonge, switched back to Line 1 and was able to travel to Sheppard-Yonge all in half an hour — delays withstanding. If only I had realized that in time, I could have stayed with my friends and wouldn’t have had to go through an ordeal just to get home. 

However, I ended up watching my friends leave me behind on the only south train that would arrive for the next hour. 

At 6:30 pm, all trains were forcibly closed, and at that time, I didn’t know why. In one of the tunnels, a bunch of grumpy commuters were effectively kicked off the train and offered a bus ride. 

I hate transit buses. Sure, they are slow in traffic, but the worst thing about buses is the fact that it reveals the nasty in everyone. The previous Monday, there was a fire in the tunnels. Luckily I wasn’t one of the people who had to walk in a dark tunnel with smoke burning, but I was one of the unfortunate people who were stuck with having to take the bus.  

It was nine in the morning and the staff told me to stand in line and wait for a bus to take me to the next station. I almost asked him, “Sir, what line?” I kid you not, there was a mob out on the sidewalk.  

You would think as Canadians we would politely line up and passive-aggressively argue over who should be the kinder person. But no, I saw adults screaming like children. Whenever a new commuter joined the “line” and went to the front, the people would cuss at them and force them to go to the back of the line like a bunch of kindergarteners.  

Then a bus would arrive, and that mob would squish you against the bus and trample you under their feet. You basically had to fight to the death just to get into the door. This would happen again and again for hours.  

It was almost noon when a shaky old man who was trying to get in and those beasts stopped fighting and let the old man through and helped him get in with his walker as if they were doing a nice thing. The moment he got inside, the fighting resumed. And like a spoiled daughter, I called my father to pick me up.  

Unfortunately, I couldn’t leave this time. It was almost seven at night, I was in the middle of the city and my phone was dead. I was about to take a bus when I overheard a couple of commuters saying that they could walk to Union instead. It wasn’t far so I decided to follow the crowd. However, at night I had no idea where I was going. I could barely see the street signs. After walking for a bit, I noticed there was an intersection and the crowd I was following was now splitting in two. I scanned the crowd looking for anyone who I could talk to. Surely I thought there was somebody who knows where Union Station is. My eyes landed on a middle-aged woman. 

“Excuse me, do you know where Union Station is?” The woman looked at me and burst out laughing. 

“I don’t know where it is either!” Her laugh startled me, but instead of feeling uncomfortable, I joined her and the two of us ended up laughing with tears in our eyes. Perhaps it was the unfortunate circumstances we found ourselves in that lead to us sticking together for the rest of the way. At last, we found someone else who knew where the station was, and we followed them to Union. 

There was a reason why I didn’t want to get off at Union the first time; I noticed I was going in the wrong direction and because Union is huge. All of the buses leave Union Station and go towards the city. You can even get to Pearson Airport from there. It’s business central, the best place to get lost. 

If it wasn’t for my new friend, I probably wouldn’t have found the northbound train platform. Eventually, it arrived at 8  pm. After a long night of stress, I was ready to go home. I let out a sigh when I sat down between two old women. I closed my eyes, listening to the train as it creaks, groans, and whistles. My body swayed as the train wobbled, as if on a tight rope made of rusty metal. At last, I reached Sheppard-Yonge, where my father was waiting for me with the car. It was 9 pm. 

It wasn’t until I was in my bed did I learn that the reason I was kicked out of the train was because some driver collided into the TTC fence. To be honest, I was a bit disappointed. After hearing about the fire on Monday, I was expecting something wilder. But I guess that’s life on the TTC. You never know what’s going to happen next.  

After telling my story, you might be wondering why it’s my favourite university moment of 2019. The truth is this experience is only one of the many moments in my life where things don’t pan out the way I wanted. And if 2020 could be anything, it was the year no one expected. Even 2021 surprised us. We expected to have a calmer year, yet within a week, there was an insurrection at the US Capitol. Life is unpredictable. Despite our best efforts, we can’t plan for a riot, a fire, a bad driver_, the death of a loved one, or losing our jobs. But what we can do is be flexible, stay calm, and always take life one day at a time.