Today I noticed.

🪡 A Daily Stitch Journal 🧵
100 words or less. Sometimes more.

Wednesday. October 11, 2023

P O W E R  Trip 🛤️

Today, I noticed an incident on the Toronto Transit Commission – TTC. The streetcar had hardly left Bathurst Station when it came to a complete stop. The driver, an older White woman with graying hair, exited the control booth. After a brief conversation with the passengers in the front, she made her way towards the back of the streetcar stopping in front of an Asian woman of similar age, also with graying hair. “Get out!” she demanded, pointing at the open doors. The Asian woman remained seated, clutching the large blanket that lay on her lap, a determined look on her face. “Get out!” the driver repeated. “You spat on someone. I’m not moving the streetcar until you get off!” Stubbornly, the Asian woman replied, “I’m not getting off.” Her stoic refusal caught the driver off guard. “If you don’t get off willingly, I’m going to call the police to escort you off.” She threatened. Unmoved, the Asian woman said, “call the police. I’m not getting off.”

I observed the confrontation from my seat a few feet away. “Why is the driver on a power trip?” I wondered. I hadn’t seen the Asian woman spit on anyone since shuffling her way onboard at Bathurst station. She looked homeless, or somewhat down on her luck. “Leave her alone!” I thought. “She’s just trying to get where she’s going.” But the driver couldn’t back down now. Her power had been challenged. She returned to the control booth to summon the police. I contemplated leaving the streetcar with the passengers who had concluded that it would be faster to walk. I didn’t. Instead, I lamented my decision to stray from my usual route. I became increasingly agitated when the police didn’t arrive quickly as expected. To release the tension, I approached the Asian woman, determined to get to the bottom of what was a non-issue in my mind. She remained unbothered by the inconvenience the incident had caused, eating a few grapes from her shopping bag as she waited along with the rest of us for the police to arrive. “Did you spit on that woman?” I asked, hoping to prove in conversation that she hadn’t and was being wrongfully accused. She turned to me with venomous eyes and said in her thick accent, “who are you?” I stared back blankly, “huh?” “Who are you, stupid?!” she repeated forcefully. I returned quietly to my seat, awkwardly spilling my orange Bubly. Twenty to thirty minutes later, the police still hadn’t arrived and there was increasing silent pressure on the driver to move the streetcar. The Asian woman remained quietly seated, strong, determined, unbothered.  After what seemed like an eternity, the streetcar driver conceded defeat and resumed the trip. We all sighed in relief. The Asian woman appeared smug.

At Dundas Street, she muttered inaudibly and spat on the floor dangerously close to the unsuspecting passenger seated opposite her. I observed in shock as she got up to leave, her blanket in tow. I continued to watch her as she crossed the street, muttering.

trip
: activate (a mechanism), especially by contact with a switch, catch, or other electrical device; an exciting or stimulating experience [Oxford Dictionary]