1:20 AM
I detach myself regretfully from the birthday celebration at The Crawford. I’ve got an early start tomorrow, and I’ve got a long trip home yet.
1:28 AM
You’d think with all the soon-to-be drunken revellers headed for the club strip on College Street on a Friday night that the streetcar would be pretty frequent. You’d be wrong. The 506 Carlton is one of a handful of streetcar lines that runs all-night, but that doesn’t mean it shows up often.
1:36 AM
I finally make it on to the TTC network. There’s the usual Friday-night crew of slightly-sloshed youngsters and grizzled nightlife vets.
1:52 AM
I embark at College Station, intending to catch the last northbound train. I make it through the station doors, a good sign, since it suggests that the station — and therefore the trains — are still in service. I get down to the platform and spend a moment considering whether or not I’m on the right one. A quick check (the train is always on your left on TTC platforms) tells me this is indeed the northbound track. So where’s the train? The sight of a light coming down the tunnel makes me think I’ve just made it, but it turns out to be a maintenance engine. Turns out, the last northbound train left at 1.50.
1:54 AM
I hike back to street level. It looks like it’s going to be another night on the “vomit comet,” the entirely appropriate moniker for the Yonge Street Blue Night bus. Luckily, I’ve remembered to grab a transfer.
2:10 AM
I’ve now let two Blue Night buses go past without attempting to board. The TTC is at its busiest at two very different times: weekday mornings post-8 am and Friday nights post-2 am. At these times, the chance of acquiring enough space to stretch out your arms and read is minimal; the odds of getting a seat are close to none. My care in acquiring a transfer turns out to be unnecessary — there are far too many people getting on for the driver to check each fare.
2:15 AM
At Bloor Street, a flood of people depart, and I manage to make my way to the area near the back door — my favorite spot on a bus. Sure, it means I have to move every time more than one person tries to get out that way, but it means I stay awake and that I don’t have to squeeze up every time someone gets on.
2:20 AM
I should have stayed at the front. Someone in the back is smoking a joint, and the total lack of ventilation in the bus means the smell is making my head hurt. It doesn’t help that one of his friends is shouting “Oh my god!” every so often.
2:24 AM
The bus driver has gotten wind of the smoker (literally — the smell of the weed hangs in the air, mixing with the delightful notes of throw-up that are a Blue Night mainstay), and he’s not having it. He pulls the bus over to the sidewalk and radios the dispatcher. Soon enough, two Transport Enforcement units arrive and herd us all off the bus somewhere just north of St. Clair.
2:26 AM
The next bus promptly arrives, and I make it on relatively unscathed. I’m relieved; I’ve had more than enough transit excitement for one night.
2:43 AM
Turns out the second bus I boarded was a 320A, which only goes as far as York Mills Road. I’m forced to disembark short of my destination for the second time.
3:05 AM
I’m trying to make it up to Sheppard Avenue, so I can head east to my North-York neighborhood. That’s only one major north of where I’m standing, shivering outside the gas station that faces York Mills subway station. I seriously consider walking the two-odd kilometers between the two streets, just to keep myself warm and alleviate the boredom of standing by the side of the road waiting for a bus.
3:27 AM
There’s a group of people singing lustily in Spanish on this bus. There are six of them, three couples clearly returning from a night on the town. At least one member of the party is asleep, oblivious to his companions’ music making. One of the women — clearly the “la bonita” of the song — is twirling in the space behind the back door of the bus. Eventually the happy group tumbles out, the sleeping member carried out by his fellows.
3:33
I finally make it to Sheppard. The last Sheppard train eastbound leaves at a quarter-past two, so its long gone. I huddle behind a planter at the stop and wait for the 385 Blue Night bus. It arrives within a couple of minutes, mercifully half-empty.
3:50
I end my TTC adventure by stepping off the bus at the nearest stop to home. I’ve been on the transit network nearly two hours at this point.
4:10AM
I tumble into bed, utterly exhausted. My usual hour-long commute has turned into an epic three-hour quest for home. Just another night on the Blue Night bus.
