By: Hailey Miller, SFU Student
We’ve all seen him — that one guy who causes a scene at the SkyTrain station. The guy who appears out of nowhere and leaps up the escalator two steps at a time. Like a lightning bolt, he sprints through hoards of people in a failed attempt to catch the moving vessel as its doors are already on their way to being slammed shut.
Let’s talk specifics here. This always happens at Commercial-Broadway — always. I’ve seen it, you’ve seen it, and there’s no doubt the security cameras have captured it live. At this point, the SkyTrain personnel are a little too accustomed to this regular occurrence. They shrug it off and continue about their day as if they didn’t just see a flurry of chaotic speed whirl by in a frenzy of time-crunched panic.
If we’re being honest, chances are you’ve probably pulled a lightning bolt SkyTrain manoeuvre once or twice yourself — come on, don’t be shy. It’s bound to happen at some point, isn’t it? Let me set the scene for you: it’s rush hour — wait, every hour is rush hour around here — and you’re in more than a bit of a hurry. You’re trying to be subtle about it, but subtlety has no place in any transit station around this town. Maybe you should’ve left your house two minutes earlier. Let me guess, you thought you gave yourself enough time to catch the bus, right? Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t. Maybe the bus was late, or the connection took too long. Have to transfer at another stop? Forget it. Switch modes of transportation on the way? Good luck! Maybe your alarm clock didn’t go off, or you forgot your cup of coffee — the magical bean elixir of energy. Dare I mention the horrors of potentially forgetting your Compass Card? We all know the story. Regardless of the matter, you will never be as careless as the regular Mr. SkyTrain Lightning Bolt Manoeuvrer.
We all know this guy. Clearly, he likes to attract attention to himself. Whizzing by faster than a thunderbolt, he sizzles on the SkyTrain platform. You’re watching the chaos unfold as Mr. SkyTrain Amateur screeches past the yellow caution line, attempting to pry the doors open with all his might. Wait, who am I kidding? He’s no amateur. He’s a well-seasoned transit user, specializing in the daily disruption of us sophisticated SkyTrain connoisseurs — contrasting his chaotic disarray with everyone else’s orderly fashion.
By now, the door frame’s seals barely allow the guy’s hands to scrape past, out of danger. Even then, he doesn’t make it through the moving doorway in time. His frazzled looks complement the dismay plastered on his face. How dare he miss one train and have to wait a whole 120 seconds for the next? What a waste of time! With dissatisfaction, poor ol’ SkyTrain Hurrier Guy is accompanied by the electric woosh on the tracks that follows shortly after the train’s swift departure from the station. So, the man waits impatiently. Time ticks by like a broken hourglass. He paces back and forth, scuffling his feet and mumbling under his breath until he hears the hissing sound of the tracks coming to life. All is lost, yet all is found, just for Mr. SkyTrain Manoeuvrer to catch the next train in-bound.
