Riding the bus with Ryan Reynolds

That`s right, children. I sit across The Great Canadian Adonis on the bus.

Now, before you ladies get your panties in a tizzy and you gentlemen abruptly stop reading this, cool all your tail feathers. I don’t usually do this but this is actually going to be a serious post about a life lesson I learnt this morning that I, against my better judgement, decided to share with you. Normally, I  like to keep my blog as light-hearted as possible, restricting it to mostly mindless humor to get you through your caffeine-fuelled robotic lives. However, there comes a time when something so simple and yet so profound happens, that one must tell someone else. Or a bunch of someone elses.

My story began last week when I started riding the Viva bus, a more human pleasant alternative to the TTC (my regular bus). The Viva bus stops at the same stop as the TTC and takes me to the same place where I have to catch my third and final bus to work. For the past week, I`ve been getting on the Viva and sitting directly opposite a man who is a splitting image of the photo you see below:

You think he's coyly smiling at you but really, he's just checking himself out on his tinted car window. (www.coolspotters.com)

He’s usually reading the paper but behind those designer sunglasses he’s really just silently staring into the souls of the unsuspecting working class around him. This was the one piece of excitement I had every morning of last week. Anyway, this Monday morning, I woke  up thoroughly excited at the prospect of starting my week with Ryan Reynolds staring into my soul as any normal hormonal girl would be.

As luck, or lack of it would have it, I got to the bus stop just in time to see the Viva pull in to the stop. I ran  to it like a wild zebra being chasing by a  lion. Alas! I got there just in time to have the doors of the bus close in my face, while the driver shook his head at me in complete indifference. I thought I might burst into tears. Not only was my soul not going to be stared down at today by Ryan, but it was also very likely that I wouldn`t get to work on time seeing as how the chance of missing my third bus was inevitable.

I stood there stewing in a pool of anger and frustration at the driver, at life, at Monday, at Ryan Reynolds, at myself. So caught up was I in my black mood that I didn`t even notice a TTC bus pull in right in front of me a minute later. The TTC bus was like a Nike sweatshop of carpal-tunnel syndrome suffering children…cramped, stale and suffocating.  And it was in that dark place on the TTC bus that I found my reason to write this post.

Even though I missed the Viva , I knew for sure that today, a missed Viva was not going to result in me being late for work because that suffocating TTC actually saved the day.

Now, I`m sure this touching story warms the cockles of your heart and everything, but really… why am I making you read all this bullshit?

Well…let me get up on my pedestal and tell you…

It’s a given that life isn’t always going to be a joyride with Ryan Reynolds. At one point or another I’m sure all of you must have suffered the pain of something you really wanted not working out the way you wanted to or not working out at all. I know I certainly have.

Maybe you came really close to landing your dream job only to have it snatched away from you. Maybe you suffered loss of some kind. Maybe you`re stuck in rut with nothing working out for you. For everything that doesn’t work out, the lesson of missing the Ryan Reynolds bus made me realise there is always another way to get where you want to go.

It may not be the way you planned, but you will get there. It may not be the same time that you planned for, but you will get there. It may not be the most convenient way to get there, but you will get there. And it certainly may not be with Ryan Reynolds sitting across from you, but you know what? You will still get there.  A thousand-and-five shiteous things could get in the way of getting there, but none of that will change the fact that you will get where you need to be at the right time.

 Of course, this goes with an assumption that you’re doing the best you can i.e. getting your ass out of bed, not keeping couch bugs company, applying for jobs before deadlines, running like a wild zebra etc.

 This is probably no new lesson for myself or for anyone else by any means, but its one I find very easy to forget.

 In the end, the one thing you really need for this to happen is hope. And deep (often VERY VERY deep) down whether you know it or not, we`re all hopeful. Even when your whole life is sitting in a large pile of doo-doo, you still hope something  will change. What other choice do you have other than to have hope?

Until then, close your eyes and know that while you are in the sweatshop bus of life, some people will get off and make breathing easier, the road will even out eventually, maybe you might even encounter some kind soul who gives you their seat. But even if none of those things happen, provided you don`t give up and get off, you will eventually get to where you need to be.

And that folks is my Monday sermon for you. *gets off pedestal and googles more Ryan Reynolds’ photos*

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Everything I know about dating, I’ve learnt from public transit

This post is dedicated to anyone who has ever lost a piece of their soul to the Toronto Transit Commission, York Region Transit or dating.

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The dating world for a single 25 year old girl these days is a pretty scary place. It seems like every where you turn there are drama queens, cheaters and serial killers.  Coincidently, these are exactly the kind of people who ride the TTC #36 at 6:45 in the morning. Wait, maybe I should put that in a more charitable way. At 6:45 in the morning,  public transit swallows up the human soul and spits out a social ogre on to the little red seat. Come to think of it, I don’t know how that’s charitable to anyone…except maybe ogres.

This has been my first week back at work after my 7 week hiatus of foot recuperation, and never before in my life did the similarities between 21 century dating and my commutes on the Animal Express hit me so hard as it did this morning.

Ain’t nothin magical about this school bus!

After my first two bus transfers, I waited to take my third and final bus to work, the York Region Transit. Quick Note: Did you know that in a shamefully non-scientific study that was done this year, the YRT was found to be the single leading cause of murderous rage and/or high-risk suicidal behavior? People who steal your stapler at the office and  stupid girls who try to pick up change at the check-out counter with curly 17 inch nails that have kittens  and palm trees drawn on them tied in for second place.

This morning the YRT was doing what it does best, standing everyone up when they needed it the most. There was an assortment of society’s finest who were bracing the long wait with me. Among them were the confused deaf guy, the young intern guy, the curly haired office worker girl and my personal favorite, the Indian girl talking really loud on the phone with her mother in a really thick Indian accent.

It was somewhere between the deaf guy running around convinced that everyone was keeping top secret bus information from him and the Indian girl talking loud enough for every man, woman, child and stray cow in India to hear her that I realised I have been in every dating public transit situation there was to be. And since my bus wasn’t going to be there for at least another hour, I mapped out my whole dating journey into a blog post.

My dating journey began some years ago with:

 Short Turn Steve.

Short Turn Steve was a streetcar who appeared sooner than I expected him to.

What’s right with Short Turn Steve?: He was open, accomodating and had no funky odors. I wondered at my luck in snagging this one.

What’s wrong with Short Turn Steve: Steve shortturned after 5 stops, unable to take me any further. Then he turned around and went back to where we started.

Moral of the Story: Ditch you best friend, Over Analyzation and get off the Island of Why-the-hell-is-he-not-calling-me after 5 wonderful dates. If there is any lesson you can learn from Streetcar Steve, its that there’s probably too much construction ahead for this to go anywhere.

Trampy Train Trevor

If you have done the locomotion that is the Toronto subway train, you will understand my relationship with Trampy Train Trevor.

What was right with Trevor?: He was always available, generally showed up on time and took me where I wanted to go.

What was wrong with Trevor?: If you stayed with this guy long enough, you’d realise that you were just going around in circles. Not to mention, Trevor would stop at EVERY station…EVERY five minutes…and let EVERYone have a go with him. 

Moral of the story: Charming cassanovas like Trevor might take you to see the night lights of a beautiful metropolitan city but could care less about bringing you home safe if you stay late. In the end, he’s screws you over…just like he screws EVERYone else.

Stand you up Sven:

What’s right with Sven?: Sven was the out of towner whose bandwagon I got on because a large portion of my life is spent at work out of town. Plus, he’s foreign.

What was wrong with Sven?: He had no concept of how to deal with a fast-paced city girl like me and only seemed to show up when he felt like it. He was super nice, super comfortable to be with and super unreliable. Also, what kind of a name is Sven anyway?

Moral of the Story: There’s nothing worse than having to wait for two hours in the cold winter for Silly Sven to show up, right? It could only get better from here, right? Wrong.  

Bus of Bullshit Bobby:

Bullshit Bobby was the miserable shuttle bus that replaced Sven.

What was right with Bullshit Bobby: Nothing. He just happened to be there when I was cold, tired and desperate.

What was wrong with Bullshit Bobby: Everything. He had too much baggage, too many people and no space for me. I was pushed around, forced to deal with everyone else`s drama and the ride was so bumpy that this whole journey started to literally become a pain in the ass. Eventually, Bobby broke down with all the weight and the drama and I decided to just walk home.

Moral of the Story: In the end, I learnt that the one mode of transportation that didn’t fail me when I needed it the most were my own two feet.

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I’d like to say the journey ends here but something tells me that come tomorrow morning, this shit cycle will begin all over again. And it won’t end until I save up enough money to buy a car and get over my nervousness of driving.  Sure, a car is a commitment and maintence and is emtionally and financially demanding. But so is dating taking the bus. The only difference is, if you treat a car right, they will always bring you home. No matter which hole in the wall you are stuck at.

So here’s hoping that one day, some day…us singletons will have a car all to ourselves. And when that happens nothing and no one, (except traffic) will make us wait out in the cold anymore.