Be Careful What You Wish For

So, just this week I whined about how the TTC didn't go on strike and forced everyone to give up their dream of a free day off due to a lack of transportation.

Late last night, in a real chump move, the TTC workers upped and striked. On a Friday night, at midnight. With just a one-hour of warning that people in a bar drinking would not have any awareness of.


TTC, this was not the deal.

The deal is you do this during the week. So we get a day off. With giddy anticipation of getting that day off.

Not while people are out enjoying the start of the weekend. Spending all but a pocketed $2.75 of their money on beer. In an area that is not so walkable to home. Where there aren't a lot of cabs, let alone cabs willing to go anywhere for said $2.75. When one is wearing heels that were already making one's feet sore just standing around drinking and were clearly not meant for cross-city distances.

You suck. And others agree.

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So Close, Yet So Far Away

Sunday was a sad day for my lazy cohorts of the city. The TTC, at the last minute, found common ground with its workers, and their union opted not to strike. The media naturally spoke of it all as a miracle and that "Torontonians are breathing a sigh of relief."

Uh, no. That sound was one of sulking and self-pity, actually. As mentioned in blog entries past, TTC strikes, in my neck of the social woods, are rare get-out-of-jail free card. No transportation = no going to work = patio, patio, patio. And as most people know, patio patio patio = a blissful neighbourly mood, even among the usual Toronto a-holes. Days like transit strikes are as close to a Magical City Moment as we can get (without the awesomeness of the entire eastern energy grid imploding on itself) and that horrible little union took that hope away from us.

Even though I don't even take the TTC anymore, I feel very wronged by the whole thing.

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