I’ve lived in Toronto essentially all my life. Downtown Toronto for most of my adult life. I’ve had to deal with various incidents over the years, but never, ever, have I felt really and truly unsafe. Until a couple of nights ago. That was first number one.
On New Year’s morning my husband and I were coming home from our friend’s party. Taking advantage of the free TTC ride to cross the city — back from the Danforth to the west end. Even before we headed out for the evening though, I’d expressed hesitation about what coming home on the Rocket was going to be like that night. “As though the whole line is the Vomit Comit” I said.
But I always feel better when the husband cajoles me onto public transit over, say, a warm and speedy cab. So this time I thought I would be urban and eco/public-friendly and good and we all (husband, I, and another couple) managed to get on a train at about 3:15am.
There was, as predicted, a good amount of vomit. We got onto a subway car total passengers about 6 or 7 (including us). At the far end of the car was one clearly drunk, likely homeless, man with a bicycle. The other couple was riding with us as far as Yonge, and it wasn’t for a few stations before the drunk man began being loud, playing a harmonica, yelling and lurching around a little.
But that’s not unexpected on the TTC. It happens all the time, often during the day actually. Drunk, lurchy, loud people are 9 times out of 10, only that. They don’t especially bother you, or accost you. So we weren’t taking much notice of him.
Our friends got out at Yonge. At this point on the car there was us, an older well-dressed couple, and maybe three other people.