Bag Lady / Bag Man

Taking the night bus down Yonge st. in Toronto in the middle of the night is an ill advised activity at the best of times. But sometimes after a night of imbibery north of Sheppard one is too drunk to be concerned with the annoyances one may confront taking the "Vomit Comet". I was in such a state one night last week and was treated to some rather interesting scenes.

First there is a young man (maybe 20) with a big piece of Sony Stereo hardware still in box taking up two seats. He spots two nerdy teenagers and gives them the the finger rubbing sign for money and then look sat the stereo. Unbelievable, this dude is trying to sell a stereo (likely stolen) on a bus full of people. Classic. The kids shake their heads and the guy just smiles and nods. Later he engages and late 20 something man with the same proposition. The 20 something shakes his head but the two continue to talk for the rest of the ride - fast friends as it were.

As I am continuing to ride, with my head buried in a book at this point (Marx, Das Kapital V III - reading it drunk is a complete waste because I have to reread the part when sober, but it never stops me from trying). I notice a rather pungent aroma invading my airspace; I look around to see an old gentleman (hobo) carrying about 8 plastic bags filled with his affects. It's always interesting for me to watch the (presumably) homeless when they are forced to interact with society. He was quiet and reserved, but his eyes were constantly darting about, as if making sure no one was going to make a move on his precious cargo. Others had noticed the smell at this point, some kids chuckled to each other, people made eyecontact with one another and shared eyerolls. I pretended to read whilst observing the old-timer.

A little further down the line a bag lady got on, rare to see a bag man and a bag lady on the same bus (but not so strange on the 320 Blue Night Bus). The two spotted each other right away, but didn't approach each other. There was no attempt made to engage each other in conversation, to discuss the daily events or to commiserate on the upcoming winter. I found that rather odd, here are two people who clearly share some things in common. Two people who certainly could understand each other much better than anyone else on the bus could, and yet they seemed to avoid each other. Almost as if a mutual disgust was all they really shared, or a shame in how low they had sunk.

As I continued to watch, and the two bag people continued to avoid eye contact with each other the bus slowly rocked it's way down the street. The bus made it to Dundas Square the bag lady rang the bell, the bus stopped and she approached the door but she was having trouble getting off the bus, the bag man noticed and stood up, leaving his own bags unattended in order to attempt to help his fellow homeless get off the bus. This was a far cry from the distain they seemed to feel a few moments ago. When he was right beside her he offered his help, she yelled at him "Not to fucking touch her" and went off into the night. The bag man hung his head and sat back down with his bags, sheepishly trying to avoid the prying eyes of the passengers of the 320.