Practice running

There’s always been something romantic about taking the train—until our trip to South East Asia I’d never done it and after doing it, I think I’m the only one who still finds it romantic. Landing my new job in the downtown core gave me the chance to do it over and over again as part of my now daily commute; however, having never gotten on the GO before, I used my extra day off before starting to go for a practice run.

A beautifully sunny day, I timed my route to the station and my path from the car parkade to the platform so I knew when I should start my trek. Easy. I spent the time I had before my train basking in the warm sun on platform, passing the moments with a crossword puzzle. Birds flitted through the long grass beyond the tracks and the CN Rail train chugged through towing an endless line of mysterious cargo. My commuter train pulled in on schedule and I took a comfortable seat on the upper level of the car with a great view to watch the world go by. Romance was in the air.

I alternated between watching the view and completing more of my crossword. A little further, I felt the familiar drowsiness that follows me on long rides and closed my eyes for a moment. I probably would have fallen asleep, but it was then that we pulled into the Pickering train station and a herd of under-aged, drunken elephants piled into my car and loaded themselves into the seats directly behind me. The rest of the 30 minute trip was destroyed by their loud talking and rambunctious roughhousing.

Romance ruined.

However, it was not all about taking a romantic train ride into the city, it was about learning the ropes and getting to know my work routine. Arriving at Union Station and ridding myself of their company, I leisurely made my way to my new office building, choosing to walk on the sunnier sides of the street. Finding myself in the building lobby and having timed all of the routes of transportation it took to get me there, I considered it a successful practice run and headed off to dinner with friends before hitching a ride home with Malcolm.

The next morning, getting to work went off without much of a hitch – it turned out there was more traffic than I’d seen the day before, but nothing to keep me from getting on the train in time. My first day of work went by smoothly and sweetly – the team was amazing to work with from the moment I stepped through the ultra-secure doors—and I left on time to head home. Having timed the route to get to the office, I estimated that it would take about the same amount of time to return to the station, giving me just enough time to catch that 5:20pm train home instead of waiting for the next one at 5:53pm.

Off I went. Following the crowd I even found a slightly shorter route to the station—bonus! Or maybe I was just lucky. About to climb the stairs to the platform, I nearly forgot to validate my train pass, but in remembering, I gave myself an opportunity to glance at the departures board listing the trains, routes and platform numbers. My train was leaving in 4 minutes from platform 12.

Perfect.

Up the stairs I went. I walked along the platform with the notion of sitting closer to the front of the train which would have been perfect…had I not been on platform 7. Shit.

The rails that ran between the platforms were not deep by any means and I could have sprinted (in my favourite four-inch heels) across the tracks to the right platform, but we’ve all seen the videos about how those bright ideas turn out. Instead, I opted for walking along the platform to the next set of stairs back down to the concourse level that would allow me to find my way to the platform 12. Unbeknownst to me, however, was that the next set of stairs was located at the absolute opposite end of the platform.

Glancing at the time, my heels and I picked up the pace at 5:18 pm. I didn’t see a train at 12 yet, but if the GO schedules stood for anything, it was on its way. I regrettably paused to ask an employee if there was a faster way other than the longest way, and with his initial “uhhhh” I immediately felt the urge to panic creep up on me. On his prolonged suggestion, I tore for the elevator, rode down to the concourse and sprinted as best I could in the directions the signs he’d promised me pointed. At the bottom of the stairs of the RIGHT platform for 12/13, I met a woman who seemed to be in the same rush I was.

   “Go on up ahead of me, I don’t want to hold you up,” she offered.

   “Nah, just come—can you SEE the shoes I’m wearing?! I’m not going to be THAT fast up the stairs.”

She insisted, but followed close behind. As I arrived at the top of the stairs, to my relief I spotted a train only just pulling in to the station. I slowed my pace to walk a little ways to where the first line-up of people was beginning. In that momentarily slower stride, I noticed something crucial: I was watching the train pulling into platform 13. Without thinking further, I whirled around and hopped onto the waiting train behind me, seconds before the doors sighed to a close.

A gloriously sweaty mess, I plopped myself into a seat and didn’t exhale until the voice over the loud speaker confirmed I was on the right train. Romantic train rides now ruined by both other passengers and by me, I just settled in for the regular old commuter ride home.