The Bus Driver Groupies

I know I've neglected this blog for sometime now.  I think I'm acclimatizing to the Barton bus and the craziness that goes on is just another day in the Hammer. This post isn't even about the dreaded number 2 bus - this is about the bus Burlington!

In May the schedule changed due to construction on Waterdown Road. With this also came a change in drivers. The old men and rough looking ladies I was familiar with were replaced by a younger, tanner guy with incredibly white teeth, and a strange little ponytail on his otherwise shaved head.

I honestly don't really care who my driver is, as long as they're not terribly late, and get me home in one piece. But the girl who usually sits at the back with a scowl on her face suddenly decided she was going to make friends with the driver.

Since he started driving the 101 route she has been consistently standing with him at the front for the duration of the trip. She's incredibly eager to get on the bus and mark her place next to him. It was so peculiar to me. This stone cold ice queen was suddenly the bus driver's pet. I once overheard another passenger gossiping about it even. This is how sad our little bus universe is.

It always struck me as odd that even though she knew she was going to step onto the bus and stay upfront next to the driver, she always tried to get on the bus ahead of most of us, practically pushing her way through, like she had before she met her bus boyfriend. Yesterday this fact was not lost on the driver. As passengers were getting on, and stepping around her to get to the seats, the driver said, "listen, if you're going to stand up here, maybe get on last and let everyone else get on." Oooooooooooo. Could this be a lover's quarrel? I know this whole blog sounds very catty, but something has to entertain me during my hour long commute.

Today while we were all waiting for the 101, I kept wondering, will the girl  heed the driver's advice and get on the bus last? First off, no she didn't wait till the end to get on, BUT another girl swooped in first, and assumed her position near the driver. The ex-bus driver groupie asked him for a transfer and walked to the back of the bus, her rightful place among the rest of us commoners, while the new love interest laughed and smiled and flirted.

The moral of the story is that there will always be a younger, prettier bus driver groupie. It's best to just sit back and enjoy the ride. Or be like me and observe this quiet drama from afar and see how it all plays out.

Springtime in The Hammer

Photo of young people on King Street at James North.

As the snow melts, and the birds chirp, and the cigarette butts wash into the storm drains, there's a sense that the city is coming back alive. The people are emerging from their houses, offices, and homeless shelters to take back the streets with their long beards, their pink mohawks, and their cardboard signs.

Out of tune guitars are strummed behind  upside down hats with some nickels and dimes tossed in, along with the occasional cigarettes. Cigarettes are the currency of the streets.

Today I saw a guy leave the homeless shelter near my bus stop in a hurry. He was visible angry, so much so that he pushed over a shopping, causing it to crash down - spilling empty cans all over the already littered sidewalk. He stormed up the street, stopped and sat on a bench directly across the street from me. He proceeded to cry.

I couldn't hear him over the traffic, but it was obvious. His head in his hands, his body shook as he struggled to breathe over what I can only assume were sobs. A young guy walked by him, and noticed the state he was in, and looked over to check to see if he was okay. The crying man leapt to his feet as is he was going to punch him. The innocent pedestrian threw his hand up in a peace sign to tell the broken man that he meant no harm. The guy returned to his bench and continued to cry.

It was a shocking event - both scary and saddening. I know I write about these people like they're a punch line in my joke of a blog, but sometimes the things I witness at bus stops, walking down the streets, and on the bus are the most human things I will ever see.

No facades. Just a man who lost everything sobbing on a bench because there's no where else to go.

Discovering new places

While I don't live in Hamilton, I do spend five days a week there. The key to making a strange, and let's be honest, sometimes scary, place enjoyable is to find places and people you like there. I know people who live in Hamilton who are hardworking, decent people who I would totally hang out with outside of work! As for places, I want to share a few neat spots I discovered last weekend.

MULBERRY STREET COFFEEHOUSE

 This coffee shop was recommended to me by my co-worker Debbie - she is a Hamiltonian through and through, and knows where all the best spots are in the city. The atmosphere was very...hipster, but still cool. Vintage bar stools, reclaimed wood, barista wearing crazy glasses - that sorta thing. I ordered a rooibos tea to go because I had an appointment, but also ordered a delicious Valentine's themed carrot cupcake that I ate there. The baked goods at Mulberry are made in-house - I know this because the barista made mention of their baker. It's located on the corner of James Street North and Mulberry - across from the armoury.

The verdict? I'd love to go back and try their specialty coffees. I saw a quiche in the display, and I love quiche. I would go there on my lunch hour for sure.

THE TEN SPOT

The Ten Spot is a chain of spas - so it's not an independent Hamilton business. However, the aesthetic of the place is very "James North," so it's a bit more hip than your average spa. While, I don't recommend it for people looking for a relaxing oasis type spa, the services are quality. Great for a mani-pedi. It's located between Cannon and York on James North.

The verdict? I might go back for a manicure, but I really love the spa I go to in Burlington for the atmosphere. I guess I'm more traditional when it comes to spa, and I kinda just want to float away to the sounds of new age music. Plus, I wouldn't go in the winter again, hard to put gloves on when you just had your nails done!

MIXED MEDIA

Mixed Media, at Cannon and James North, is an art supply and stationary store that offers hard to find, Canadian, and local art. I picked up some unique gifts and cards there and flipped through the bins of prints by Hamilton artists.

Verdict? Great place to go if you want a unique card that definitely didn't come from Hallmark - not that there's anything wrong with Hallmark. As a fan of stationary and local art, it was a great little shop. I'd go back.

CANNON COFFEE CO.

Last Saturday, I was out with two ladies I run with shopping Ottawa Street for upholstery fabric. Ottawa Street is known for the fabric and antique stores. I had googled coffee shops in the area before hand so I would know where we could go after for a drink and a snack. Cannon Coffee Co. had a very cool atmosphere. Mismatched chairs, all painted bright yellow to match their logo. The menu was scrawled in chalk, and the cups were mismatched too. I ordered a tea and it came in a china tea cup with a saucer. Very cool place - I'm glad we went there rather than the local Tim Horton's. They're located on the corner of Cannon and Ottawa.

Verdict? I want to go back and try their sandwiches because they're made using waffles instead of bread. Seriously - I love waffles! I need to try one of these sandwiches!

Oh, and in other news, last week I saw a woman on the Barton Bus wearing and hat and scarf that looked like they were made using silver Christmas garland. Seriously.

I Make Fun of Rich People Too

I knew by creating this blog I might end up polarizing people. This was not my intention. I guess what I'm trying to do is show that a city that is so close to the one that I call home can be so wildly different in some ways, but also the same. We're all assholes, in different ways. I say this with love.

The way I see it, I can make fun of EVERYONE, myself included.

I live in two different worlds. My life in Hamilton, where I take the Barton Bus, and hang out at bus stops on King Street where the homeless kids sit with Tim Horton's cups and cigarettes hanging out of their mouths. This Hamilton life also includes me working five days a week at a job in my chosen field.

Then there's my life in Burlington, where I am surrounded by people who make way more money than me, who don't understand why I don't just buy a car. "Like, why don't you just buy a car!"

These world views are so contrasting and I'm caught in the middle of it all - trying to stay dignified, yet humble. These past two days I have experienced both sides of the coin.

JACKSON SQUARE, Hamilton, Ontario - Friday, February 6th, 2015

Yesterday, I took the Barton Bus - where nothing too weird happened (or I'm just getting used to it) - and got off at Jackson Square.

Once upon a time, when Hamilton was thriving, Jackson Square was the place to shop. It was a downtown shopping centre with a wide variety of stores. Today, it is plagued with the reputation for attracting the strangest people in the city. They just idly hang out there because there is no where else to go. This place more than one dollar store - if you get what I'm saying.

I had to go there because I was meeting my friend Ashley, who works in one of the offices upstairs. Because she didn't finish until 5:30 PM, I had roughly half an hour to kill.

My first stop was a Hamilton favourite - Tim Horton's. Hamiltonians thrive on Tim Horton's. It's in their blood. It's littered on their streets. I ordered a small regular decaf with a muffin and sat by the glass window that looked out into the mall corridors. From this vantage point, I saw every type of person imaginable. The homeless man begging with a toque in his hand, the woman on the shooter with an eye patch, the guy on the skateboard wearing a top hat.

Behind me a woman was arguing that someone butted ahead in line, "that's not right!" she screamed. The bearded man behind me said "fuck" between every word, and it was difficult to determine whether or not he was a hipster or homeless.

It was like watching an accident - it's horrifying, yet you can't look away. That's what being in Jackson Square is like. I was grateful for the people watching, but also wanted to run the hell out of there.

COSIMO'S SALON, Burlington, Ontario - Saturday, February 7th, 2015

Things I learned from listening to the guy in front of me getting his hair cut:

1) He was looking for a new shoe shiner, as he's been driving to Etobicoke to get his shoes shined, and that's just too far.
2) His dry cleaners ruin his shirts when pressing them, so he needs a new dry cleaners too.
3) There's a place across the street that makes custom mattresses and pillows, and he needs to have a pillow made because of his back problems.
4) He is really bitter about his ex-girlfriend.

If these aren't First World Problems, I don't what is!

My hair stylist and I gave each other a look when listening to this guy talk. Basically silently saying to each other, "is this guy for real?"

So here I am, in the middle. I don't care if my shoes are shiny, but as least I have shoes! I am perfectly satisfied with my store bought pillow, because I have a bed to sleep in at night.

I'm an asshole because I use people I don't know as punchlines in my blog about nothing. But they just need to stop being so damned entertaining, and I'll stop. But do you really want me to stop?

I didn't think so.

Happy weekend everyone!

Hamilton This Week

*Not my photo, but free stock image -
this is not a portrait of any of the people in
this story.

I feel like I have only a few little stories to tell, as nothing too exciting has happened as of late. I will, however, provide a few glimpses of the things and people I witnessed this week while either on, or waiting for the bus.

1) I witnessed two homeless men fight

They did not throw punches, but I felt like it could have escalated to that. I was standing on the corner of York Boulvard and Park waiting for the bus when I heard yelling. It was coming from across the street at the men's shelter. An older man with long grey hair, wearing a puffy orange winter coat was yelling at another homeless man with long grey hair and winter clothes who was walking away. The orange coat wearing man started following him, yelling as he walked. Finally the other man turned around to address him. This is where they stood practically nose to nose yelling at each other. I couldn't understand what they were saying, aside from the occasional curse word. Eventually orange coat man gave up, and let the other guy continue on.

2) The laziest guy in Hamilton...maybe

I get on the Barton bus in front on Hamilton General Hospital on Wellington Street North. The next stop after is in front of the Barton street jail. This is one block away, a five minute walk, max. A guy gets on at this stop and sees that his buddy is on the bus too. They start chatting and his friend asks him where he's heading. He tells his friend he's going to Wellington street, but was too lazy to walk or wait for the eastbound bus, so he decided he was just going to ride the bus until it turned around and headed back to Wellington. This guy was slim, able bodied, and perfectly healthy from what I could see. He was just, as he said, lazy. Outsiders often label Hamiltonians as lazy, and people like this guy are not doing a very good job at convincing us otherwise.

3) Not all my stories are about Hamiltonians

I have seen this guy before, and it's always the same...he's either really drunk or incredibly stoned. I'm talking, can't walk straight. He wobbles, he squints his eyes, his movements are sluggish, and dopey. He's visibly messed up, and often does stupid, dangerous things, such as stumble down onto the road to look for the bus. Or wave around a lit cigarette with reckless abandon. Today he did something even more unusual - he started to shadow box. Just out of nowhere started throwing some punch combinations as if there was an invisible heavy bag in front of him. When the bus arrive he somehow hauled himself up onto the step, and made his way to the back. I did my best to avoid sitting anywhere near him. This was on the bus home to Burlington. See, some Burlingtonians are weird too.

Losing your bus pass, and other crappy things that happen while commuting

The Barton Bus

I am a routine girl. Every morning I do things in the same order. I wake up, go to the kitchen and turn on the kettle and make myself a quick breakfast of toast or cereal. I make my tea, then sit in the living room and eat. At roughly 6:30 am I will get dressed, then wash my face and put my makeup on. I then fix my hair, take my lunch (that I made the night before) out of the fridge and put it in my bag. I then check that I have the following two items:

1) My phone
2) My transit card

I don't even care if I forget my wallet, as long as I have these two things in my pocket when I leave.

On Friday, I slept in, which threw my whole morning into chaos. However, I still managed to leave on time, and with both my phone and bus pass on me. I should also mention that due to the extreme cold weather we've been experiencing lately, I was dressed extra warm - including a pair of fuzzy Hudson's Bay red mittens from last Olympics.

I don't know how many of you wear mittens on the regular, but I must say while they keep your hands toasty, they make holding items difficult.

Once I got to Hamilton, I got on the #4 bus - The Bayfront - tapped on using my bus pass, and took a seat in the middle of the bus. The 8:22 am Bayfront bus is not very full usually, so I set my purse and bag on the seat next to me. When we arrived at my stop, right outside my office, I grabbed my bags and headed in to work.

When I got to my office my computer was giving me a hard time - not wanting to start up properly - so while I waited for it to boot up, I did a quick inventory of all my stuff. I grabbed the metallic blue case I keep my bus pass in and opened it and saw that my card wasn't there. I then checked all my pockets, and my purse and the pass was no where I be found. I then ran outside in the snow and re-traced my steps attempting to locate the bright green card. It was gone.

I assume it slipped out of my mitten and was probably on the seat where I put all my bags.

I went online and reported it missing and requested a new card. It should take about a week for my new card to arrive. I started to panic - checking my wallet to see if I had enough change to get home with.

Thanks to a generous co-worker, I was given a bus ticket to get me home.

Fast forward to the end of the work day. I step onto the #2 Barton bus with my ticket and I realize that I have no idea where a bus ticket goes! I was so embarrassed having to ask the driver. After taking the bus for close to 5 months now, I had no idea where bus tickets were deposited. The driver was nice and told me, and gave me a transfer to get on my next bus with. I felt like I was new to the bus all over again!

Thankfully, after the annoying commute, my mom picked me up from the station and we went out for dinner and drinks.

Welcome to My Bus Life

Bus stop at York & Park - Hamilton, Ontario. Photo by me

To start this off I should inform you that I am indeed a Burlingtonian...Born and raised in Burlington, Ontario. Everything posted in this blog will be from the biased opinion of a sheltered suburban girl, so try not to judge me too harshly. This is my world view.

To begin, let me tell you the story of me and the bus...

When I was a little girl I lived closed to my school. My brother and I were taught how to get to and from school on foot. We sometimes walked with our neighbourhood friends, or would catch a ride if possible. But I was not a bus kid.

The kids that took the school bus would line up behind paper signs with their bus number written on them. I would simply grab my backpack and walk, or ride my bike home. School buses were simply for class trips to science museums, or pioneer villages - not for day-to-day travel.

My parent's both drive, so taking us places was always easy. Even as we grew more independent, we could always rely on a ride from mom or dad to the mall, or to a friend's house. It was never even suggested that we take the city bus. The only time I ever took the city bus was with my grandma - who would occasionally take us to the mall. But even then, I didn't have to think about where we were going and when to pull the stop request cord thing - she would do all that.

When I was 19 and started university in Toronto, I had to learn to take the TTC bus myself. Lucky for me there were some off-campus trips offered to first year students the week before classes started. I learned how to take the bus to the subway stop in order to get downtown. I fancied myself quite the city-girl by the time I moved back to the suburbs when I graduated, four years later. But alas, my new-found bus taking skills were rendered useless, as I ended up working locally, within walking distance...until recently.

I took a job in September in Hamilton....Steeltown...The Hammer...the place everyone loves to hate. Not wanting to buy a car or move there led me to conclude that the only way for me to get to work was to bus it. We're so lucky these days with technology that can tell us how to get places. With Google's guidance, and some co-worker's help, I navigated the parts of the city I needed to get to with ease.

Taking the city buses has exposed me to the bones and guts and innards of Hamilton. The Plains Road Express bus takes me out of my protective bubble, and drops me seconds away from a men's homeless shelter. The Bayfront bus takes me through a gentrified artist's community to the dying industrial wasteland. On the way home though is where I experience the full spectrum of the human experience.  The Barton Bus. The bus that can be as tame as a lamb or a wild, and as unpredictable as a hobo with a bag of cans. This is the heart of Hamilton. This bus drops me across from Jackson Square, where the homeless kids with mohawks hold their paper signs. Then I walk to the bus stop where the sidewalk is peppered with cigarette butts, pigeon feces, spit, and discarded Tim Horton's cups. I can't help but stare as the drama unfolds. Then my bus comes and takes me home.

This blog is for my friends and co-workers who kept saying, "you should turn your bus stories into a blog." I will try my best to share my tales of the kooky cast of characters I cross paths with during my morning and evening commutes.

Enjoy!