Yesterday I spent the entire day downtown, capturing footage of people that I am quite sure bordered on stalking. For the record, this footage is for a project. My only alternative to stalking was to actually approach people and talk to them. This was not really a viable option (I try to avoid contact with actual people as much as possible, and thereby postpone making a fool of myself). Clearly, I am going to make an excellent journalist.
As it began to grow dark, I lugged my tripod, camera and mics down the street, hopped on the first streetcar that passed by me and collapsed into a seat. Finally, I can relax. Right?
Wrong.
I’ve never actually been on this streetcar before. I don’t know where to get off. It stops at the subway and I panic. Is this my stop? I am packed into my seat. Literally. There are three bags on top of me and a person beside me. And one hundred people fit together like puzzle pieces on the other side of her. There is no way I am getting off this streetcar. So I resign myself to riding it to the end of the line, wherever that may be. My leg begins to cramp up (I have a history of viciously cramping body parts; everything from my thumb to my toes) so I stretch it out. I try to stretch it out. It won’t move. My feet are literally glued to the floor with some sort of sticky, gooey, colorful substance. I am definitely not getting off til the end of the line (and maybe not even then).
A woman gets on, dog in tow. She is furious that she was not allowed on with her precious companion during rush hour. The next half hour consists of her educating (aka lecturing) the bus driver on the many despicable qualities of the human race and the finer qualities of its better half: The Dog. He is a patient man. ‘Yes,’ he says, ‘humans are disgusting. You are quite right - people who don’t like animals should be put down.’ This doesn’t console her. She will not quit until she kills converts the entire population on the bus.
A woman gets on carrying a child, gender unknown (it appeared very masculine and yet was wearing pink. So..future female boxing champion, or very confidant boy). ‘Someone give the lady with the baby (he can’t tell if it’s a girl or boy either) a seat’ says Patient Driver. Everyone simultaneously pretends to be asleep. ‘Someone give the lady with the baby a seat’ says Slightly Hostile Driver. People shift uncomfortably in their seats, trying not to make eye contact with The Lady. I stare intently out the window. Find your own seat lady, I’m not going anywhere (remember the gooey floor people). I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. A man finally offers his seat and we are on our way once more, destination still unknown.
A woman gets on. She explains to Patient Driver exactly why she doesn’t have any money to pay the fare and how very important it is that he let her ride anyway. He looks tired. He wearily waves her on without argument. He has more pressing matters to attend to, such as saving the human race from the dog lady. She hasn’t stopped reprimanding him since she got on twenty minutes ago. I think he wants to kill her dog.
We reach the end of the line. Thankfully, I find we are still in Toronto. I will not have to spend the night under a bench after all. I use both hands to pull my feet out of the goo. It has oddly solidified into a very thick substance. I have to wrench my feet off the floor with each step. I look like a soldier, taking stiff, high-legged steps. My feet are making weird ‘gluppy’ noises. I walk by Exhausted Driver. ‘Thanks (glup) for the ride (glup glup).’ He looks scared. Sure, serial-dog-lady doesn’t frighten you, but my robotic walk does. I judge him. My flip flop almost gets left behind on the last step. I hop on one foot, shaking my trapped leg until it comes free with one final ‘gluup.’ The dust from the ground coats the goo and I am able to walk in silence once more.
I head into the station, bags/tripod in hand, silent goo on my feet and a smile on my face. I’m almost home. I start to relax. This proves to be a grave miscalculation on my part. A woman runs toward me, yelling unintelligible things: ‘far go walking yeh?’ I fix my eyes on the goal: the staircase behind her, and step around her. She leaps back in front of me. ‘hurr mumble mumble okayy?!’ Wind is rushing up from the stairs; my train is almost here. Throwing caution to the wind I fake left and then race (read: walk very quickly) to the right. I hear her chasing me. ‘hey, follow car good!’ I fly down the stairs, laughing so hard I can’t breathe. Unsuspecting people head up the stairs, casting curious glances as I rush past them. ‘Please leave me alone!’ I gasp between fresh bursts of laughter. ‘I just can’t handle this right now!’ (I really can’t. I mentioned I’m laughing right? You might also care to know that I have had to pee urgently for the last hour and have a very weak bladder. I said might). They all avert their eyes. Seriously, if you’re scared of me people, just wait til you get to the top of those stairs. There’s a real treat waiting for you up there!
An hour later I’m finally on campus, composure fully regained. Still carrying my tripod and three accompanying bags (who do they think we are, anyways? We’re journalists for goodness’ sake. Ours is an exercise of the mind, not body. They should sign us out a car or porter along with the rest of this stuff), I head into school and power through the three flights of stairs it takes to reach the media cage. I am shamefully out of breath by the time I get there. ‘I’d (gasp) like to (gaasp) return my stuff (gasp gasp), please!’ I meant to say it as a statement, but it comes out as a desperate plea. I hand him the tripod and mics. I reach into my bag, pull out the camera case and hand that over as well. There are empty food wrappers stuck all over it. I mentioned I was at the District all day, right? I quickly snatch the wrappers off and tuck them into my bag while he pretends not to notice.
Five minutes later I close my door behind me with a sob of relief. This ten-by-four foot cubicle is my haven of safety. ‘I’m never leaving again,’ I whisper to myself. Until tomorrow…
