Louise and The Men of Transit

New Safety

The tall female customer rose up again into Louise's memory, like a repeating bad sandwich. An anomaly, Louise assured herself as she massaged the straps of her enormous purse weighing down her shoulder. Some people can't read maps, she persuaded herself. That customer was one of their number. Her map reading was just all wrong, she decided with a firm nod. Most people, most customers, she emphasized to herself, understand TTC maps, as Jim had explained to her. His reassuring presence filled her memory, how he'd sat back in his chair, crossed his left leg perpendicularly over his right, steepled his hands in that way that told her he was about to help her understand customer convenience and The TTC Way. He'd explained patiently how the CCTV consults with —

"Excuse me, I need help."

Louise focused her eyes on the external world. Customers thronged the entire length of the southbound Davisville platform. Two waif-like female customers, as short as Louise, had their eyes on her face, their bodies facing north.

Louise smiled. Here was another chance to help. Another Sixth Way opportunity, she rejoiced. This time she'd succeed! "Yes?" Louise asked brightly.

"We want to go to T&T Market."

Louise's face fell. She didn't know where that was.

"It's on . . ." The smallest of the two customers consulted a letter-sized sheet of paper in her hand, two well-worn horizontal creases showing where it had been folded. The customer said: "It's on Cherry Street."

Louise half-closed her eyes in concentration. She was still having difficulty memorizing the bus numbers. Jim had explained the logic to her when she'd asked for memorization tips. He'd shaken his head at her slowness and patiently spent an hour explaining the numbering system to her, even rummaging around in his top middle desk drawer for his well-used map to demonstrate to her how the numbers made sense. She had boned up on her TTC trivia, enacting her decision that matching trivia to numbers would help. But she still couldn't follow the pattern. It puzzled her. Patterns revealed themselves to her in her computer programs like beautiful intricate dances. The bus numbers not so much. What number was Cherry? She strained to remember.

"What street is it near?" Louise finally thought to ask.

"Cherry," the woman answered affirmatively, her companion nodding in agreement.

"No, no," Louise smiled. "I mean, what cross street? I mean, what intersection?"

The two women looked questions at each other. The first one turned back to Louise and shrugged. She put forth: "Commissioners?"

Louise nodded as if comprehending. Okay, she guided herself silently, Commissioners is down near the lake. What numbers are near the lake? Think Louise, think! Her eyes widened as a solid memory flashed in. Five-oh-four! Five-oh-four is near the lake! I can take them south on this Line One to that Flexity Outlook LRV and then we could . . . Louise creased her forehead as her internal wayfinding stalled. Never mind, she shook her head mentally. She'd think about that when they got there. There were local maps in the station, she was sure. They would consult those. With Jim's explanations still ringing in her memory and her strengthened understanding of TTC maps, she wouldn't let a customer confuse her again. She had a sudden thought. She should carry a route map on her. No, no. That would make her make the TTC look foolish if she, a TTC team member, didn't know the routes and had to consult a map!

A Toronto Rocket Cars slammed its presence into Louise's consciousness, waking her to her surroundings again. It clattered to a hard stop alongside the teeming platform. Only three minutes had passed since the last one had come through and loaded up. This was the third time she was witnessing the crowd surging towards the closed doors, pushing and shoving themselves into the cars the moment the doors slid open. Their aggression dissuaded her from joining them. Customers continued to stream down the stairs.