Category: Transit stories

I was lucky enough to get a seat pretty early on the 4’s route. I have my back to a man who just got on the phone.

“Sarah? Are you there? I can’t hear you Sarah… Sarah?”

“Hey, it’s me. I just wanted to talk to you Sarah, I thought maybe we could see each other. I know you’re busy, but I just don’t like the way we left things.”

“I know baby, I didn’t mean those things I said.”

“Sarah, why don’t you just come over and we can just talk?”

I don’t really like the way the conversation is going, but it seems harmless enough. And then it escalates.

“Look Sarah, you still owe me some money, and I’m going to need that back.”

“If you can’t pay me back, we’ll have to find something you CAN pay me with.”

“I have to see you Sarah. Where are you, baby? I’m coming now. I hope you have my money.”

It escalates again.

“WHERE IS MY MONEY SARAH”

“I’M BUSING BY YOUR HOUSE RIGHT NOW SARAH. YOU BETTER HAVE MY MONEY.”

I pull out my phone to start texting the transit emergency number.

“SARAH IF YOU DON’T HAVE MY MONEY I’M GOING TO COME OVER THERE AND KILL YOU”

“I WILL KILL YOU SARAH”

I close the texting app and switch to dialling 911. I stand up and move so I can get a better look at him to give a description.

And then I see his hands. They’re empty. He has one hand balled up in a fist and held close to his ear. He’s shouting into the hand. There’s no phone, and more importantly, there’s no one on the phone. Looking at him now, it’s obvious he needs a doctor and not the police. He probably needs a roof over his head too.

I don’t finish calling 911, but I don’t know what to do. Before I really have time to think about it, a ragged looking man at the front of the bus limps over to the back.

“HEY TOM. Cut it out! You’re scaring people. Come on man, let’s get you off the bus. No, no, put the hand down, I know you’re not on a goddamn cell phone.”

The ragged man hauls the ragged-looking Tom off the bus. I watch the simultaneous lowering of several cell phones – other riders all ready to call for help.

I know he needs help, but I doubt he’ll find any in this city.

Overheard at a bus stop, between two young teens.

“You know about Paul McCartney and that shit, don’t you?”

“Yeah, isn’t he like, classical?”

“Yeah, in the sense of not modern, totally.”

It’s raining a little, but I decide to walk instead.

It’s a normal bus ride. I’m standing next to a totally normal looking guy. He says to me “I sense a lot of compassion in your life. Have a nice day!”

And then he got off the bus immediately.

It was a strange interaction, but I kind of liked it.

I’m riding the 84 back home. The bus stops at Burrard, a young woman gets up to leave and I noticed her phone dropped out of her pocket and onto the seat as she stood.

I have to throw my arm in the closing door to rush off the bus to give her phone back. I had to shout and chase her down to finally get her attention. When I finally stop her, she just gives me the hardest stare.

Without breaking the stare, she says “This is an unlocked iPhone. This is worth a LOT of money. Thank you.” We shake hands.

I turn around and get ready to wait another 15 minutes for the next bus, but the 84 is still there. I half-jog back. The bus driver says he saw me rush out with the phone and thought it was nice, so he waited for me.

It was nice.

I’m leaving UBC for the day. Had my first class of Biology 427 – ornithology and herpetology. Just the introduction to the course got me excited – I went to the bookstore straight after and picked up the recommended field guide.

I want to learn every bird in this whole damn province. A brown-skinned elderly man with a long braid down his back sits next to me.

“So you really like birds, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“I can tell because you’re holding that book and flipping the pages like it’s the goddamn bible. I love birds too. Eagles are my favourite.”

“I haven’t picked a favourite yet, but eagles are very majestic.”

“You know I like watching eagles fish. This one time, I saw an eagle swoop down into the ocean and pick up a fish with it’s goddamn feet. Right there in front of me. So majestic.”

I tell the story to my husband. He complains “Well I pick up stuff with my feet all the time, and no one calls me majestic!”

The first thing I notice when I board the 84 is a man who is curled into a ball on one of the seats. He’s talking to himself. He is clearly unwell. He has no shoes, and although it’s January, he’s only wearing a ripped tank top, torn jeans, and has a garbage bag full of what I assume is his bedding for the night. 

Like all the other people on the bus, I try my best to pretend that he’s not there at all. 

As the bus gets fuller and more crowded moving along the route, I get slowly and uncomfortably pushed towards this stranger. Then a woman gets up from her chair, completely blocking the exit, and starts fiddling around with her shoes. A few people trying to get off the bus deftly and grudgingly struggle to get around her before the bus doors close. 

I realize then that she’s taking off her shoes. 

With a lyrical Spanish accent, she stands bravely in her socks and offers the man her boots – a pair of salt-stained camel coloured sheepskin Ugg boots. Everyone loves to hate Ugg boots, but there seems to be no shortage of people spending money on them. 

He hesitates. 

She says “Seriously man, you’re going to get sick if you walk around in your bare feet in this rain.”

He says “Thank you” four or more times, and she promptly gets off the bus at the next stop, skipping away through the dark in the rain.

More people load on to the bus, so now I’m standing directly beside the man who is turning the boots over in his hands. I think how bold it was for that girl to give up these boots on a whim, walking off the bus in just her socks, while we all stood around and pretended he was invisible. I reflect on the unnecessary negative stereotypes we apply to struggling people in this city, and think about the stigmas surrounding mental health, addiction, and homelessness. I stop thinking about these things when I notice that he’s talking to me. 

“…you don’t even have to listen to me… I’m just a talker… I ain’t here to bother nobody… I just like talking to people, you see? … you got a nice smile, you know that?”

“Thank you. That was sure nice of her to offer those boots to you. People in Vancouver pay a lot of money for those things.”

He looks up at me and says straight, “I’ll trade them to you for some weed.”

I don’t know what to say. So I just say what I’m thinking. “I don’t even know where to get weed.”

“We just passed a dispensary, we could get off at the next stop and walk back to it.”

“Sorry man, I can’t do that for you.”

He shrugs and starts asking anyone else if they’ll make the trade. I get off the bus feeling confused and sad.

The 99 was full. My laptop felt like the weight of the world on my shoulders and I resorted to sitting at the front of the bus in the priority seating area. A man got on the bus at the next stop – short for his weathered body, in a stunted growth kind of way. He walked funny, like the way my friend Lisa did while waiting to fix her multiple slipped discs. He had comfortable eyes. He sat in between a handsome man in a suit and myself. The man he sat beside might have been the definition of tall, dark and handsome; he was probably ten years my senior, a successful businessperson, lawyer, or something equally classy. The two of them made small talk until the University gates, he asked the handsome man if he had a girlfriend. 

“No, not right now, I guess I just haven’t found my soulmate yet.”

The other man looked puzzled. “What’s a soulmate?”

“I think it’s when you find that special somebody who complements everything about you, like you’re meant to be together. You’re soulmates.”

This answer pleased him greatly. He put on a large, gap-toothed grin and said “That sounds nice.” 

He lolled his head from side to side, absently gazing at the various advertisements lining the bus interior. He turned his head to me and we made eye contact. I looked away awkwardly. He said “Hey, what about her? She’s pretty, she could be your soulmate!”

I tried my best to hear nothing and blend in with the cushioned seat back. 

The handsome man laughed, “I don’t believe we’ve ever even met!”

“Well then how would you even know?”

“I guess I don’t really, though finding a soulmate takes a little bit of time.”

The man gave another toothy grin, thanked the bus driver and got off at the next stop, by the golf course. With a posture like that I wondered if he was actually going golfing.  The handsome man said nothing more  for the rest of the commute to campus, and I may have thrown some elbows to get off the bus as quickly as possible. 

The next day, I did the usual push through the doors of the packed 99 and managed to score a seat just as someone was getting off. I slump down in the seat, relieved. I glance across the aisle. I am met with a brown-eyed stare and well-tailored suit. He says “Hey, soulmate!”

I laugh.