Notes from Underground: The Orange Line

by Nic Olson

Unemployment: Day 6

I have always wanted to ride the Metro from one end to the other. Curious as to exactly what the trains do when they reach their ends. To see the sights from one end of the the city to the other, smell the body odours of those from Laval, and hear the whines of spoiled Saint Laurent children, while feeling the cold hard hemmorhoidal pinch of cold hard plastic that allows only right-angled posture and leg to leg commuter rubbing.
I had decided which of the subway stations was my favourite, Place St. Henri, high ceiling, rotating sculptures that connect the main gate to the station below, great pizza across the street, quiet, on time, empty. But I realized that I hadn’t seen anywhere near all of the stations. To make a proper decision I needed to see more of them, and eventually, all of them. Cote Vertu on the northwestern tip of the Metro’s reach, and Montmorency, almost a full circle around from Cote Vertu, across the water in Laval. I walked to Sherbrooke station, nearest my house, on the map, a station to the left of the only three line transfer station, Berri-UQAM. If the Orange Line stations were letters of the alphabet, Sherbrooke would be the letter N, in between the A of Cote Vertu and the Z of Montmorency. I rode N to A to Z to N. Total trip time, approximately three hours of metro time. I stopped for slices at Cote Vertu. I got out for a walk at Montmorency, which was unknown to me, not technically part of the STM system, so I had to pay an extra $2.75 to get back on the train.

Nothing particularly interesting happened. A few cute girls sat beside me. I child behind me screamed for five stations straight. I read for two and a half of the three hours of commuting. There is something about the underground that makes a man feel alright. And I expect that if you ever come visit me, you’ll now have the Metro map memorized. From A to Montmorency.
Why bother getting a job ever again?