Rocking through the misty sea my dream boat had just arrived to the majestic kingdom when the monstrous witch screamed me out of my sweet sleep into the unusually harsh reality of daybreak. Terrified that the noise would interrupt the Queen and four year old prince, I sprung out mightily and slapped it shut. Quarter to eight. Summer sun seemed to beam from somewhere in the mid sky. When bedtime is usually well past midnight this feels like dawn. While forcing the glued eye lashes to open, I felt my way to the washroom. Another catnap while I release. Not used to wetting my body in the morning, I brushed in a vain attempt to glitter my sparsely lined naturally yellow teeth, somehow managed to put myself into a pair of trousers and an ironed shirt, slipped into the shoes, grabbed my cheap black bag and stumbled out of our apartment on the fifteenth floor into the narrow corridor and rushed toward the elevators.
A heavy voice startled me. I remembered the middle aged gentleman. He lived just a few apartments away with his son. He came not very long ago. Often I found him pacing across the long corridor. Every time we met he greeted me enthusiastically. I assumed he had nobody to talk to. His son and daughter-in-law both worked. They left pretty early to beat the traffic. Though I didn't consider myself much of a social person, under best condition I could hold up a conversation for a little while but this wasn't the moment. Especially in the morning I hated to talk. I tried to reward him with my best smile and move on but that wasn't to be. He grabbed me by the soldier. I had to stop.
"Went to the doctor yesterday. Low blood pressure. He told me not to worry. Ha…ha…ha… Benefits of walking. What did I tell you?" His English was poor. He spoke mostly in Hindi, which I understood a bit but couldn't speak much. Yet in situation like this, I somehow manage. I mumbled something ineligible and walked away. I worked downtown Toronto and commuted in public transportation. The trip was never less than one and half hour. I could drive to work but considering the packed roads during the office hours it would probably take even longer. I had little patience for traffic. And there was rocketing parking costs in the city. The additional car insurance for driving to work added salt to the wound. Public transportation worked perfectly for me. They called it TTC. Anyway, Time was in essence. There was no time to indulge this gentleman.
My journey consisted of a bus trip followed by three different trains. Today I noticed there was a long line for the bus. Every day was different. As the bus arrived the crowd rushed in. Oh well, being polite was good thing but a nudge here and a shove there to occupy an empty seat wasn't totally out of question. Inside the bus was packed with people. Black and white, pink and brown. Right ahead me stood a towering black man with his shaved head pushing the roof. Next to him stood a tiny Chinese woman, barely rising above his waist. Looking around I saw people of various races, sizes and ages gathered in this small space, a true junction. I felt good. Such observation of internationality was bound to awake the versatile humanity in anybody. I felt proud to be part of this community.
Our bus pushed through the heavy stop-and-go rush hour traffic. Next station. More people; pushed closer; hot; sweating.
I got off at the McCowen TTC Station and hurried up on the stairs to catch the RT. This train would carry me to Kennedy station from where I would be able to catch the underground train – the subway.
Once in Kennedy I bolted down the stairs to catch the waiting train. With seconds to spare I slipped inside through the closing doors and felt my lips cracking into a happy smile. Moments later the train left the brightly lit station and rushed into the dark tunnel. As I gazed inside the well lit compartment I noticed calm and patient office goers – well dressed, well mannered! Merging into the crowd I desperately looked for a handle to stabilize myself. The drivers often applied brakes pretty hard, catching inattentive people into sudden stumble. After accidentally crashing into several attractive women I had to be careful as I didn’t want anybody to get wrong ideas.
I climbed down at Yonge/Bloor station. I would have to take yet another train to my work. Run! Run! I stumbled down the stairs. As I struggled to regain my balance I heard somebody playing guitar. A man sung in deep, passionate voice. He was a familiar face around here, one of many musician panhandlers. Some played instruments, some sung, accepting changes that some passers-by left for them.
Another short trip brought me to a station with a majestic name – King. I rushed out of the train, followed the crowd up the narrow stairs into the sunlit streets as streams of sweat tingled me under my shirt. One good thing about all that running around was that it sort of worked as an alternative of planned work outs.
I worked in one of the buildings of Toronto Dominion Center located in the downtown. This was literally a hub for financial activities. Multistoried office buildings belonging to several of the major banks like Scotiabank, TD bank, CIBC and Bank of Montreal surrounded the vicinity. Swarms of well dressed people, man and women, marched busily in and out of the behemoths.
Younge street was the magic wand of Toronto. I kept walking past a series of high rise office buildings. Nearby, CN tower stood boldly spearing through the air into the blue sky. A mesmerizing view! Suddenly a rugged hat, upside down, popped up right in front of my face. Startled I took a step back but quickly realized it was just another homeless asking for hand outs. Yet another guy who made the streets his home. I had seen several just in this small area. A lonely homeless man with a large quiet dog – there could be a touch of poetic beauty in this scenario but it was far more heart breaking. I never felt comfortable in giving away handouts. I had seen how such demeaning tradition eventually turned into a social disease back in my native country. The fear of watching similar corrosion in this society brought terrible feelings.
My office was on the 25th floor. Well secured. The magical card did its magic and the doors opened up for the majesty, a short walk led me to my desk. At my right sat Sasa from Russia. At my left was Murali from India. Opposite to him sat Beth from China. After an argument with the manger she wrote a long two page letter filled with objectionable statements about the manager and then mistakenly sent it to the manager. Once she realized her mistake a second email was sent quickly with the request to ignore the previous email. That issue didn't just go away for her, not before causing lot of administrative problems.
It was time to get to work.