Thought this would fit here. It is entitled, simply, "Door 14."
The afternoon it all began, began like any other afternoon. I was done work. I was waiting for the C-Train at the 3rd St platform. Finally, the C-Train came. We herded on. Knowing that I would be departing at the Vic Park/Stampede station, I made my way over to the opposite door so that getting off would be easy. Little did I know the horror that would transpire minutes later...
We got to the Victoria Park station. The train came to a stop. I pressed the button to open the door. The door did not open. I pressed the button again. Still the door did not open. Panic began to set in. Would I be able to get off in time? More frantically I pressed the button, to no avail. Other passengers began to adopt my urgency. A girl nearby began banging feverishly on the door, alerting some tradespeople on the platform outside. They rushed over and began pushing the door-open button mercilessly, but nothing happened. A child inside the train began crying.
The girl kept banging on the glass as though her life depended on it, but then the unthinkable happened: the train began to move again. The tradespeople pushing the button reached out their arms in one last futile attempt to get me off the train.
It wasn't to be. I had to go to the next stop.
I told myself that it was just a glitch, kind of like when you take the bus and the operator forgets to engage the backdoor. Other passengers tried to console me, and before we got to the next stop, we were all laughing as though nothing had ever gone wrong. After all, I was only trying to get to the Talisman Center. The Victoria Park station and the Erlton Stampede station were about equidistant from my goal. It wouldn't matter much.
As the Erlton stop loomed I braced myself. My finger was already on the button. A hush came over the nearby passengers.
The train came to a stop.
It was the same thing.
I yelled down the train, "Is the other door working??!"
No answer. Too many people on the train. My screams were muffled by the endless bodies crammed into the car.
But close by someone tried to save me. He pressed the emergency button to alert the train operator.
"What's your emergency?" came the operator's voice, cold, unforthcoming.
"We have a problem with Door 14," said the man. "It won't open!"
"It's inoperative," replied the robotic voice. "Can't you read the sticker?"
"There IS no sticker," many people said in unison.
"Well," said the operator, "I'm sorry for the inconvenience."
"Wait!" I yelled. "Tell him to wait so I can move to the other door!"
"Wait!" yelled the man.
But it was too late. The train was moving again.
I was defeated. I was finished. I wouldn't be able to make it to the Talisman Center for at least another 20 minutes. My evening had been compromised. Broken, I resigned myself to my fate.
But then, something happened.
Like an orchestral swell, a chorus of boos erupted from everyone who was in my vicinity. In unison, everyone was joined by their bemused disgust. I was buoyed!
And so, in conclusion, people are awesome. Even though I ended up getting where I was going a little later, I was truly touched by how people tried to work together to get me there on time. And the unity in the booing... seriously... I was laughing, but it was touching. Really.
Thank you, Calgary.
