The power went out on the subway this morning. As we sat there in awkward silence, people began to get more and more annoyed with this disruption to their day. Cell phone calls, huffing and puffing, and looks of general despair filled the metal cart.
Finally, we were instructed that we must evacuate. One by one, we walked to the front of the subway cart where we funnelled out of one single door. A mass of angry, confused Torontonians marched up the stairs and were instructed to wait for shuttle buses.
I can hear people complaining about the TTC and its "technical issues." One man is so angry that he is walking around yelling, wondering when the shuttle buses are coming. I hear some mumbling in the crowd about tax dollars and service. I'm just thinking about what I'm going to tell my site supervisor. I am going to be an hour late for my internship, and I am at Castle Frank station. I'm nowhere I recognize on Blooor.
Then I get a tap on my shoulder. It's my friend, Tellie. I smile, and feel a sense of comfort. I like that girl. She looked pale, and her eyes were a little teary looking. She explained to me that she was on the first cart, and a woman jumped in front of it. She could hear the scream and feel the bump.
Only her and the other passengers in the first cart (and now myself) knew the reason for the emergency exit.
It made me realize how often the blanket is drawn over our eyes.
