One of the goals I have set for myself is to be more observant; to try to be like children, and notice things I would usually ignore.
Today I had the misfortune of being forced to endure a long streetcar ride. During this ride I had a long time to contemplate the large, gelatinous invertebrate which was operating the vehicle. I say ‘operating’ and not driving because, as any TTC passenger could tell you, the operators of the streetcars don’t drive, they don’t steer, they simply accelerate, and decelerate. Go. Stop. Go. Stop. That’s it. That’s all there is to it. The guys who wear change-belts at arcades have more skill. Hot dog vendors are surgeons compared to them. Janitors split the atom. I’ve seen squeegee kids who do more in a day than these jack asses, and yet – and YET – the greasy shit who was operating our oversized bumper car actually had the audacity to have BROKEN a SWEAT. He probably hadn’t moved since the Challenger exploded, but he had cracked a fucking sweat. Apparently by breathing. Unless one can break a sweat simply by dishing out attitude. If this is the case, he was more than worthy to have rivers of juice running from his malodorous pits.
Somehow these ridiculously vile creatures feel justified in giving the very reason they exist attitude. They react to the people that come to the streetcars as if they are inconveniences, instead of what they actually are: their bread and butter.
So yes, today I got to observe the Hogtown Streetcar Operator in its naturally pungent habitat. Every experience is a learning experience.