Warmageddon brings out the best in me

Yesterday, I put a co-worker on the wrong GO bus.

We had gone out to dinner and because of a disability, she can't run. I'm not much of a runner myself but I hoofed it along the GO Bus Terminal platform from Bay, almost over to Yonge, to hold the bus leaving from Platform 46 for her. Even though the bus was due to leave at that very minute, the GO bus operator heeded my cries of, "Please wait!" I figured it couldn't hurt.

She patiently waited for D. to make her way along the platform. I know GO tries to keep strict schedules. I never expect anyone to make exceptions so I thought it was amazing that the driver waited. The bus left just 1 minute past the departure time.

So here I am, all sweaty, hot, looking like butter on corn, when I look up and to my horror, realized I just put D. on a bus bound for Barrie when the bus she should have been on is the one waiting on Platform 45, marked for Aurora.

I frantically dialed D.'s cell to tell her to get off the bus but thankfully, she figured it out on her own when she asked the driver as she pulled away if she stops at Rutherford.

Oy.

There's no trains on the Barrie line after a certain hour so those folks looking to stay downtown after rush hour need to rely on a series of buses.

My own train wound up being late. I told off a couple for smoking on Platform 5. I yelled at another couple who decided to pour water from water bottles over themselves while sitting on the train (there was air conditioning, who the hell are these people?!) I gave the hairy eyeball to the woman sitting across from me who slipped off her running shoes (no socks) and threw her bare, stinky feet up on the seat beside me. I made a big production of asking her to move her legs so I could change seats. The smell, similar to that of stale corn chips, was too overpowering to bear.

At least I had a full lobster dinner in my belly. I can't imagine how things would have gone down if I had been hungry as well.