Encounters on translink

As an international student, from Norway, I had my first encounter with translink about 18 months ago. What I found interesting about using its services was not the translink system itself, but the people I encountered while using it. I remember my first trip with the sky train and how shocked I was when a stranger came up and spoke to me. I know that this might sound strange to all you Canadians, but for me this was something new. In Norway you mind your own business when taking public transportation. I know this might sound cold, but that’s just how it is. I don’t think Norwegians necessarily are colder than Canadians, but we’re not good at that kind of small talk. So when this total stranger came up to me and asked me how I was doing, I was not expecting it at all. Therefore I just answered fine and kept on minding my own business. I have, however, realized that this is very common in Canada and started to enjoy these small and often meaningless conversations. One of the better conversations I have had was on the 135 bus going down Hastings. My Norwegian friend and I were going downtown. So we were sitting there talking amongst ourselves in Norwegian when an old lady sat down next to us. Suddenly she started talking to us in Norwegian. This was quite shocking to us as Norway is such a small country that you rarely meet anyone that knows the language. It turned out that this sweet old lady had Norwegian ancestries and had learned Norwegian form her parents. She started telling us stories form when she had visited Norway, talking in a combination of Norwegian and English. I found this experience extremely interesting and it made me become more open to enjoying such small talk. Given the vast amount of characters you can find using the translink system there are endless opportunities for interesting conversations.

Memory

Since as long as I could remember, Translink has been my main transportation method to and fro school. The experiences that I have accumulated throughout the years have given me motivation to purchase a car and bid farewell to the devil machines.

The most vivid memory that I have about Translink was in fact not long ago; it was a hot sunny day during the summer of the year 2006. I was planning to head home after a long day of school; however, things weren’t as simple as I thought it would be. As I reached the bus loop up on SFU campus, many students were already lining up for the 145 Production Bus. In this situation, it usually means the bus will arrive soon; however, after standing outside in the burning hot sun for half an hour, I realized this was not the case. As the bus finally arrived forty minutes late and started to head down the mountain, the stench of fifty sweaty university students clouded the bus. Sweat dripping, shoulders aching, things just can’t get anymore worst, or so I thought. About half way down the mountain, we were notified that the bus had broken down and that help will arrive in about half an hour. For “safety” reasons, the bus driver did not allow us to leave the bus for fresh air and re-enter the bus; as if we would be more safe suffocating in the bus. Our choice was to either walk down the mountain or to stay in the sizzling hot bus. As any sane person would do, I chose to hike down the mountain.

The journey seemed like forever, but when I finally reached the skytrain station, not to mention that fact that I was already all covered in sweat, I realized that I still had to take transits for another hour to get home. It was definitely one of the worst days I ever had thanks to the reliability of Translink.

Requiem for a Dream

Once, there was a world of dreamers. These people were born of dreamers; and their children would be dreamers; their children's children would be dreamers. Time passed fluidly, and so the cycle had continued for the longest of spans, enduring the ages of towns and cities and proceeding right through to the age of grand kingdoms.

Life was good, for not only were the people born of dreams but so, too, was their world born out of the same marriage of humanity and integrity. Businesses flourished; science, and the arts, too, where pursued without relent. Wherever these dreamers went civilization erupted from their footprints. Yes, life was indeed "good".

However, by themselves, isolated from each other's assuring and beauteous squalor, the many kingdoms soon became lonely. A deep longing filled the hearts of the dreamers, for they wished to know their brethren, to see their contented and wistful faces. Truly, what they wished for was unity. And with the heart of a dreamer it was easily attainable. Highways and byways, ferries and trains, sprung up everywhere, a convenient medium with which to link the world's peoples; although, for some not even this was enough. The age of the magnanimous metropolis was now upon them, and for some dreamers their once-so-small world had become far-too-large to know. The only solution was to build more: buses, and trains too, though not simply one or even ten. Hundreds of these Ambassadors of Public Transit were loosed upon the people.

And for a while...it was good.

For a time, it was good. For a time, the Ambassadors were great and glorious, and showed us such courtesy and servitude. Yes, they had performed their duties well. No one even thought to doubt the great men and women who lovingly watched over the Ambassadors from their opal Obelisk. Doubt was a luxury unfordable to the dreamers; that is, until it was thrust upon us with a feeling of necessity rather than luxury accompanying it.

The day that jewel bore its first crack, our hearts did not waver. We still had faith in those above us in that towering monolith, and we were steadfast in our belief in the Ambassadors; however, even they would come to betray us.

When the first Ambassador dirtied his robes we did not shun him, we did not spurn, we merely assumed, effortlessly, that he would cleanse himself and then continue on in his duties; but alas, our naivety had made us blind. The next day another crack formed in the opal Obelisk, and the next day yet another. Soon, all the Ambassadors had been fouled, their radiance erased; yet, still, no one had come. No one stepped forward to help them, to cleanse our once-beautiful Ambassadors, or restore their dignity. And as the days went by and more and more fissures etched themselves into the once-proud obelisk we all soon realized that it was not a masterpiece of opal, but a facsimile of glass. No dignity would return to that place, for there never was any to begin with. It was all a clever facade. Soon enough, doubt had come to us, and with it, the obelisk left us, crumbling under the weight of our scrutiny. Now it was all lost: our pride in the Ambassadors, our pride in the Obelisk, our pride in this Trans-link between our peoples.

I can no longer stand to face the Ambassadors, for they have become so hideous to me, defiled as they are. I pass by them and I pass through them, and no emotion escapes me. They deserve no expression of joy, nor of praise. The only action I can will myself to take is a hollow confession of gratitude as I use their services, no less, no more.

And it is not good.

I am evermore disgusted by such sights, so much so that I cannot even bear to see another display anything other than disdain. Sometimes, I will see travelers from afar, people who do not know the disappointment that I do. Enamored by the sight of the precious Ambassadors these travelers draw forth their cameras and take picture after picture commemorating their first encounter with the wondrous vehicles. Oftentimes I let it pass, but occasionally I have such an urge come over me, a violent urge to go and strike down their devices and cease their useless preservation of these images. Admittedly, I would not be justified, and so I do not engage the act. I just cannot bear to think that somewhere someone cherishes this which used to be our...dream.

I have a theory....

I have a theory.

Many people living in the Greater Vancouver area have noticed the strange phenomenon that is normally on found in small towns. Everywhere you go, you see someone you know. It doesn't matter where you live, or where your going, you spot someone you know. I've been downtown and seen an old high school classmate, I've been in White Rock and spotted someone from a class here at SFU.

Now what I propose to answer is WHY.

The answer, in a word, is Translink. Next time your on Skytrain, look at the convienent map of it's routes, and notice the massive area it covers. From deep in Surrey to Waterfront, and soon to Richmond Airport. Also look at these maps, notice the intricate weave that is the bus routes of the lower mainland. Translink covers so much area it is actually a little shocking.

This coverage is the answer. No matter where one is, or where one wishes to go, public transit is likely viable to get there. It is convienent, cheap, and covers a great area. Therefore one is not bound to the little community or town one lives in, but has access to almost everywhere in the Greater Vancouver area.

So in spite of the flaws (though some really are glaring and horrid) that Translink has, it is really a wonderful system of transportation for those with little income (aka:broke, cheap, or a student), or even those who aren't. (How many times have you rode home on transit tanked out of your skull eh?). Just as a last tangent, maybe, just maybe, our expansive public transit system might be vaguely linked by the smallest of strings to the high prices of real estate? *insert stroking of an imaginary beard here*
Cheers!

Stop sending short buses to Production Way during peak hours!

It really upsets me whenever I see a short bus coming into the Production Way Station bus loop during the peak hours (7:00AM~9:00AM). Not only does it not seat as many passenger as a long one, sometimes a short bus counts as a long one and no more would be arriving until another 3+ minutes time span has gone by, making the place more and more crowded. I really start doubting if Translink knows, or even cares, about the amount of angered students who wish to be punctual for their morning classes.

The Production Way Station bus loop is designed to have people line up in 3 lines to board a long bus. However, when a short bus arrives, people who are lining up for the rear door would not hesitate to cut into the centre, which "effectively" delays the digestion of the middle line. It is extremely unfair, because they line up early but do not get on the bus early. We cannot blame on any of these students, because we all want to get into class on time. Given that, the spearhead of the full blame should go to Translink itself. Why would they want to send short buses when they know that Production Way is the busiest line of all that goes to SFU? If they HAVE TO send short buses, is it so difficult to send more of them, or be a little more flexible on the departure time? Some drivers disregard the crowd and sticks only to their assigned departure time while the arrival of more SkyTrains only further extend the lines.

For this semester, I am almost never on time for my morning classes. That includes trying to arrive early by 15 minutes, but still fails to catch a bus earlier. What I find to be the most interesting thing is that it was not always like this in the pervious semester.

C24

In the past year, our transit authority has, with wisdom both infinite and unknowable, deigned to replace the buses on less trafficked routes with community shuttles (such as on the C24 route). While in principle this seems sound, I have discovered from riding one route, that these things are death traps.

Each community shuttle appears solid on the outside when standing still, but in motion the entire vehicle shakes and rattles. The walls are thin and (from what I can see) made primarily from one piece of too-thin-for-comfort plastic. Sound vibrates through its frame, amplifying and carrying into every passenger’s ears. The seats are comfortable enough, but when a person who is larger (in any area of the body, be shoulders or gut) than the planned ‘average’ is seated next to any other person, the ride becomes an exercise in serious discomfort. The walkway between the seats is exceedingly thin and awkward, even when clear of standees. The wheelchair device in the back is rarely if ever secured properly, and clatters about throughout the ride. When it is used for it’s intended purpose, the hydraulics are slow at best, slug-like at worst, taking up to 5 minutes to load a wheel chaired passenger aboard and get going once more. Worst of all is its schedule. The posted times are a joke, the shuttle (the C24 route at any rate) is anywhere from 1 to 15 minutes late, and as it only runs every 30 minutes, can cause incredible delays for the unfortunate patron of Translink who happens to live in a serviced area.

In short, these community shuttles DON’T WORK WELL ENOUGH. I understand that Translink merely wishes to save money by not devoting an entire bus (and a driver who has a class of license 1 higher than the shuttle drivers) to a route that is not heavily trafficked, but when these attempts to cut costs end up making almost every ride (or attempted ride, as one may almost never catch one) an experience to remember (poorly). For a solution, I offer: a) Revising the schedules and better ensuring their drivers make their stops ON TIME; b) Replacing the inadequate shuttles currently driving the route with something steadier and quieter for the rider; c) Returning those routes to regular buses. To quote one of my favourite high school teachers, this current system is “No workie”.

Will the real good samaritan please stand up!

So, who here loves the rain? Is there anyone? Come now, there must be some among you who can appreciate what others would call horrid weather. Well, I for one love a good downpour. It is those times when you can see human generosity hardest at work. Take, for example, the date of January 22nd, 2007. Ah, I remember it as if it were yesterday...

It was the evening's threshold and I had only begun my journey home. My bus was nowhere near arrival and already my jacket was soaked, but I didn't mind. Soon enough it had come and I had taken my seat--at the back of the bus, no less--in eager anticipation of the adventurous ride home which awaited me; however, as any fellow SFU student will attest, it is seldom an enjoyable experience riding the express in abysmal weathers. Even within the confines of the coveted rear section I found myself being invaded by countless other bodies, damp and groaning from the pains which the tempest had wrought on them. It was anything but pleasant. It was also anything but sterile, but I digress...

Upon our arrival to the Production Way Skytrain Station all was quiet at the platforms. So, not wishing to disturb our fellow classmates with useless pushing and prodding, we all disembarked in a most orderly and civilized fashion; that is, of course, after the initial pushing and prodding which occurred while everyone collectively vied to be first off the bus, and subsequently first to set foot on the empty platforms.

Goodness, what an honour that one young woman had, being the first to realize she'd have to wait for her train. Oh, and the further honor of being the first person to be mobbed by a horde of exiting Skytrain passengers.

"Crazy like a fox," indeed.

Now, it is at this point, once my comrades and I have been evolutionarily demoted to the rank of mere sardines, when I begin to see this "human generosity" at work. Normally, when 50 bodies are compressed into a space no larger than your typical can of ravioli, you would not expect many an empty seat, right? Well, if you answered yes, I would have to declare you overwhelmingly wrong. The reality was quite the opposite, actually.

It was amazing. Grown men and women, equally thrashed by the storm, refused to sit down. Empty seats everywhere and these brave, courteous, obstinate people refused to take one, surely for fear that one of their elders may board and find no place to rest. Many a "normal" person would condemn this act, arguing that countless more people could be allowed on board, or at least the de-sardineification of us all. Well, woe to you, cranky John and Jane Doe; woe to you, leg-weary traveller, for these people will never stop standing up for what they believe in. They will never allow the heady weight of "common sense" to bring them down, and God darn it, isn't that how it should be? Gaze, my friends. Look on in reverence as these people continue to defy logic day after day. It is these people which are making a brighter tomorrow for all of us, even if they have to stand during the rain to do it. Kudos to you, human generosity. If all this is wrong, then I don't want to be right.