Bay Street's Army & Other Short Stories

This morning I had to go downtown to attend to some business and had to go early so I was part of the rush hour traffic. As I waited at the GO station to board my train towards Union I noticed a group of people come onto the platform. Now, I'm sure they weren't doing this intentionally (and I'm sure they didn't even notice) but as a bystander I found it really amusing how this group of eight (yeah...an even number..imagine that!) came out in like a line 4 long and 2 deep. So it looked like there were 8 soldiers marching towards something. At that moment I thought how all those people really DID represent an army that keeps the engine of economy running. I could call them the lubricant but then my whole soldier analogy wouldn't make sense would it?? (btw, although I sound like it sometimes, I'm really not anti-corporation/anti-capitalism...if anything I believe that we--as citizens of the world--have failed...but that is yet another story for another time).

Then as the train started rolling and I noticed the people around me I was hit with another thought. TOO MANY PEOPLE GO TO WORK TO PERFORM TASKS THEY HATE. There were, ofcourse, the few who were on the train all chirpy and alive talking to others about what they do but there were far too many who were just sitting there with drone-like expressions on their faces and most probably thinking "How much longer before I don't have to do this anymore?" Now, that's one sort of person I'd rather not be. I'd rather be unemployed than doing something I don't like. (HAHA...wait till I'm starving and I'll work no matter how much I hate it. Darn necessity)

As I got off the train and made my way towards Bay Street I could hear the guys playing the violin and the guitar at the entrance to the subway station and I saw the guy selling flowers at the corner of Bay and Front Streets. Same guy I saw a couple weeks ago. I think he's onto something. That spot is like gold. Last chance for all the men who forget those days the women in their lives would like them to remember. See the flower vendor right before you enter the subway station and realize "Oh Crap! Its my wife's birthday and I forgot to get her a gift." Flowers to the rescue.