We took the subway and then the Up express to get to the airport. This has become our preference since the traffic is more parking than driving.
We got on at Broadview to a relatively busy subway my rolly case and back pack pushing through the crowd with their legs languishing in the eisle. A young man stood up to offer me a seat. Hum, that’s nice.
I sit and and observe the crowd, loving them in a weird way because of their strangeness and variedness. I think I need to get out more, the subway was so familiar before and crowd so ignorable, and now they have become a fascination.
We get off at DundasWest gather and push our things to the platform, up the stairs and roll along Bloor street to get up to the train platform.
Up is a great ride and a zoom to the airport.
We get off at Pearson Terminal One and take another jet train to Terminal 3. The jet train didn’t have too many people, but another young person gave up his seat. Now, I am wondering how old do I look? Am I a grandmother in their eyes. Is it my sophisticated pyjama look? Or my ankle socks.
I think I don’t question and enjoy the comfort of a seat.
The world around me 