16 June 2005, the wee hours
I was sitting down at Kipling station, waiting for my bus. Standing a few feet away from me was a boy with what I thought was a cigarette in his hand, puffing away. It didn’t take long to realize he wasn’t smoking a cigarette. It was 8:30 in the morning—that seems awfully early to be smoking weed. He finishes his joint and tosses the roach on to the road. He then lights up a real cigarette. The boy is going to the airport. I know this because he asked a bus driver how long till the bus to the airport arrived. I am guessing he is meeting people, since he has no luggage on him.
As I watched this scene unfold, the Kipling 45E gets ready to leave. It’s the express bus that drives North up Kipling. Just as it is about to leave, the bus driver spots a woman running towards the bus. A man, standing near the bus waves to the driver to let her know there is a women running, trying to catch the bus—just incase the driver didn’t notice. The driver opens her door and waits. Just as the woman reaches the doors, the driver closes them shut and drives away. That was cold.
I got on my bus shortly after and headed off to start my day at work.