Commutements

On the way to the 410 stop in Richmond, B.C.

A bevy of caffeine-fueled commuters await on the Canada Line SkyTrain at 8am on a weekday.

A construction worker wearing a Rolex, shooting the shit in Spanish with his laborer buddy. Some suits huddled in the corner with their sleek briefcases and Bluetooth earbuds blinking blue, a pulse signaling ambition. A parent herding their small family—a child clinging to an arm and another in a stroller. The pram parked beside their seat because a couple of cyclists in full gear have already claimed the designated corner. Students of all ages with their stickered backpacks and tucked textbooks, entering and exiting at each stop like a thermodynamic system seeking equilibrium. A lady draped in wealth carrying her pet poodle, perhaps plotting its escape, in a designer purse. And today, as is sometimes the case, there is even a domineering individual opining loudly about irreligiousness and hedonism in the world; claiming a state of social collapse and political turmoil ungraspable outside of the confines of their mind. Luckily, they are mostly talking to themselves. Masks abound, veneers both cosmetic and cultural.

Everyone who is not talking has their heads down, scrolling through the feeds on their phone. An ephemeral portrait of modern routines squeezed into a gliding carriage. Rounding out the vignette of transience defined by collective movement on wheels, framed by rectangles and lit by the crisp-white LED glow.

Artist: Random Coalescence. Canvas: Necessitated Vocation.

Dreary-eyed and carted around like cargo. Depending on your view, indicative of the zombification of societal behavior or a representation of our collective hustle.

At least those were some of the sights that greeted me during my last morning commute to downtown Vancouver.

– / – / –

Transiting Through Ottawa

Last month, I spent a week in the city at the heart of political life in Canada. Most of the time, I was able to walk; almost everywhere I needed to be was a short stroll away from the hotel within the city center. After work, friends were kind enough to drive me around. But on a Sunday long weekend, when the downtowners had retreated to suburbia and a small number of Fall tourists scattered themselves between the canal, river and public parks, I was back on shared transport.

You could be excused for thinking that the national capital would have well-structured transit systems. Alas, Ottawa suffers from the same ailments as far too many North American locales. It is a car city, just like Prince George, Calgary, or Los Angeles. Sprawled, traffic-burdened and patience-testing. Its urban setup is a mass of roadways. Although it has pedestrian-friendly areas and a serviceable metro, the former are infrequent interruptions in an outdoor museum of roadworks while the latter is too modest in scale. On weekends, buses come every 30mins or on the hour. Miss one and you may be better served in simply walking to your destination (mind the construction plus numerous closed sidewalks).

Dedicated HOV lanes often have taxis, delivery drivers or trucks parked on them, their hazards on, unmovingly acknowledging their disruptive presence. Bike lanes are better, but only just.

I had a long list of sites to visit on Sunday, so I set off early. I was out and about for seven hours or so, with much of that time sat on the bus or waiting for one. Aside from pics of the Fall colors, wildlife and cityscapes, I was awarded with some fresh blisters on my feet. If you rely on transit in a city like Ottawa, be prepared for the abundance of pavement linking stations to your likely endpoint. Car cities are shrines to concrete, after all.

I must relay to those who have abandoned use of transit: you need to take a bus once in a while. Do not dispossess yourself of that slice of reality or the understanding it affords. It is unfortunate that as people gain the means to higher levels of comfort in their life—personal vehicles, first class seats, bigger homes, luxuries like remote work or self-led schedules, you name it—they tend to disassociate themselves from the struggles they left behind. Those issues remain, as does their worsening trajectory. But what does not change is that they are largely felt by those already on the margins.

Taking the buses and trains during a holiday Sunday can be a good reminder. In cities like Vancouver or Tokyo, with well-funded and well-used transit systems, enough of the populace can be found on public transport during off-peak hours to obscure the realization. But hop on an Ottawa (or for that matter, PG) bus on a weekend afternoon, and what do you see? Disproportionately high number of people with disabilities, people who are homeless, the elderly, students, and laborers (yes, even on Thanksgiving). In short, those who may struggle to afford or use more convenient forms of transport and are therefore priced-out of opportunities residing in Car Town.

Case in point: one of the buses I was on stopped at a loop somewhere near the Remic Rapids area, where a women got on. She carried about ten plastic bags filled with food and seemed absolutely exhausted. Without paying or showing a ticket, she took a seat near the front. It was a warm day so she was sweating in her winter jacket (not like it was easy for her to take it off and hold it). As we left the station, she quietly went up to the bus driver and thanked him for his “customer service,” sharing that the previous driver did not let her board because her day pass (which she then produced) had been drenched, thus becoming unreadable by the scanner. She also had no cash. (I suspect the driver would not have cared even if she did not offer an excuse. Neither did I; the rest of us can foot the bill for those who cannot.)

It is at this point I should point out that she had a deep lisp and was very overweight. I add these descriptions not to pass judgment but from an intersectional lens. There may be a multitude of reasons why the woman was not allowed to board, including some she had did not want to share. The driver kindly accepted her thanks and joined her in small talk. The ultimate point being: this individual, with her groceries in hand, had to wait for up to an hour longer than planned for another bus to arrive, in the hope that the next driver held more empathy.

There was little room for her to occupy in the liminal spaces of Car Town.

– / – / –

Never Again

People who are not interested in questioning or reducing long commutes baffle me. Somehow, the majority of us in larger urban centers or car cities/towns have resigned ourselves to these ‘commutements’—commitments to commuting, for work or pleasure. Time taxes that come with costly vehicle ownership plus physical separation from friends, services and recreation. An hour or more in traffic both ways—unpaid labor with a heavy environmental cost. Paying for parking, car insurance, maintenance, or public transit—a wage cut that is never mentioned in our contracts and thus not reimbursed (in the majority of cases).

Investing in denser, walkable cities with breathable air? Unfeasible. Lest we forget how quickly our concrete norm was constructed. Dare we consider how quickly it can be remade.

I remember giving my youth to the long commute. Three years during my undergraduate degree and over 1,800 hours on the bus or SkyTrain going from East Richmond to UBC and back. That is 3 hours a day x 5 days a week x 40 weeks a year. Likely an underestimate given how many club activities I was involved in, social commitments on evenings and weekends, or non-school related bussing that was required throughout. Similar cases followed early in my professional life when I did not own a vehicle. Anywhere from 1-3 hours a day on buses and trains around Metro Vancouver, to earn barely anything. Building experience, as the world tells us to do, on the promises of better things ahead. Promises but no guarantees.

Luckily, I escaped paying rent for some of that time staying with parents. Many have no such luck, relying on a more variable support network.

I recall the stress of those bus rides. On the way to class, doing pre-readings or revising for a quiz. On the way back, the stomach rumbling after a long day or watching the light fade during the winter as the pathetic fallacy hit home. Trying to stay awake during it all and not miss a stop. The cost of our suburbified existence was not clear to me then, but it is now.

Today, I find myself in somewhat of an ideal place. When I am in Prince George, my commutes are short and infrequent. The rare jaunt to work (a 15-20min round trip depending on the day), social outings, and the occasional trip to the grocery store, barber, or for sporadic appointments. Paying for gas once every few months and thankfully minimizing my time on roads filled with unsafe vehicles.

In this context and with the privilege of financial stability for a medium-term outlook, it is difficult to contemplate ever going back to the madness of the long commute. To give up an extraordinary amount of time, our most precious resource, to navigate dangerous roads. All to play the capitalist game that will forever favor the few over the rest. Just the thought of it fills me with anger.

– / – / –

A Lifeline

Investments in public transit not only help people on the bottom get by, but they also improve life for us all. Buses and trains produce less pollution per person than personal vehicles, they require fewer collective resources to maintain, they cost way, way, way less than a car, they make roads safer for everyone, and they reduce the degradation of critical public infrastructure like roads. They improve access to opportunities for those who cannot afford or use vehicles, and provide safer access to public services than you would have driving yourself or getting driven. Not least in a bawdy pickup truck with a five-foot high front grille.

Public transit is a lifeline that demands advocacy. It is one of the key social determinants of health. To deprioritize or jeopardize it is to hazard our collective wellbeing.

Too many cities and towns’ arteries are getting clogged. Inaction on known solutions like remote work, expansive public transit, and densification cannot be excused. Yet another reflection on our tie to the carcinogenic systems of shortsighted capital accumulation at all costs.