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Games to Play on Transit #14

See how many times you can board using last month's pass.

Games to Play on Transit #12 & 3/16

Probably on of the most dehumanising things about transit, aside from being herded like cattle into large tin cans with wheels, is living in bizarre fractions of an hour. You find yourself thinking things like, "Oh, crap: it's 7:13! I'll never make it to the corner for the 7:37, but with luck the 7:43 trian will get me to the 8:22 bus so I'll only be 6 minutes late."

So that's what customer service smells like.

This morning on the SkyTrain I couldn't help overhearing a woman complaining about her job. In fact people on the next car probably couldn't help overhearing her. She was clearly speaking for the benefit of her captive audience of trapped commuters. She had the suburban Vancouver area accent - a blend of an American accent picked up from learning English from the television and slow-speaking rural stoner. Just from the sound of her voice you could tell she was fifty pounds overweight and fifteen years out of style.

Games to Play on Transit #11

Guess people's musical tastes based on their choice of footwear.

Oringinal post:

Seeing my commute in a different light

Games to Play on Transit #9

You won't get to play this one often, but I just did.

Watch a couple of suburban yahoos seriously offend an older east Indian man (I missed the offending comment or action).

Listen as the old man seriously cusses out the yahoos with some "colourfully" translated insults.

Watch as one of the yahoos gets up and spits at the old man, precipitating a full-blown fist-fight.

At this point the driver pulls over and puts the yahoos off the bus. One of the yahoos decides to swing around and take a Parthian shot at the old man that nearly knocks him down.


My ability to tolerate stupidity (and therefore the great bulk of humanity) is directly related to how well rested I am.

I am not, at this point, at all well rested and I am on a suburban bus.

Oringinal post:

More Musings on the City of the Future

Here I sit, on a fully-automated robot train, typing a message that I will trnasmit by radio to in-turn be relayed by wire and light to San Francisco where it will be automatically published. The message will be read on cathode ray tubes and liquid crystal displays across the continent from Vancouver to Los Angeles to Miami to New York. It will be read at opposite ends of the earth, from Europe to Australia. And this is all a routine part of my Monday morning commute.


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