On the 95⁸
I used to take the bus to work from Orleans all the way to Cognos at Uplands and Riverside.
The trip in the morning was often jam packed it also involved a transfer to the 87 at Hurdman Station.
On rainy days the windows would steam up. Sometimes the air was so heavy you could hardly breath. Sometimes somebody would fart. It could be horrid.
It was not unusual in those days for some woman, usually a student, to be talking very loudly about her breakup. There was no shame.
You might share the aroma of some deli treat, or possibly fresh fish wrapped in newspaper. Perhaps some guy, wearing a rather large back pack would be doing a pole dance in front of you.
Some days coming home late I would be overcome by a feeling of great desperation. Those were hard days. People were depending on me.
I met my good friend Diana on the bus just short of Cognos as I heard about layoffs. We consoled each other.
As I waited at Hurdman with my friend Sunita, an elderly man, about 80 was struck and killed by a bus at a cross walk. She came with me as I covered him with my own coat and hat.
I used to look forward to the spring when I could put my bike on the bus rack and cycle part way to the office, a beautiful ride along the Rideau River and blessed reprieve.
I wrote this poem which was later converted into a song by suno ai.
I guess every transit rider to Orleans has their own 95 story
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