Skip to main content

transit nerds, unite!


years ago, when i first moved to montreal, i used to tell people that i wanted to get a job driving the metro. it was a silly ambition, of course, not only because my french wasn't near good enough, but because i would have hated the schedule and because jobs with the stcum (now just the stm) were in high demand from people a lot more qualified than i.

but i still had the idea in my head because i found the whole concept of the subway fascinating. in fact, when i first got a transit pass, i put its unlimited capacity to good use by randomly hopping on and off the metro and finding new neighbourhoods to explore. that's really the beauty of a subway system. you disappear underground and then reappear in a completely new place, with no real idea of how you got there. a little urban adventure.

most of these adventures were very positive experiences for me, discovering little-known corners, pockets of architecture that i liked, etc. some of them, particularly seeing a homeless man, apparently dead, with onlookers and emt's trying to revive him, were somewhat more sobering. but all in all, they form some of my strongest memories of living in montreal.

subways in general appeal to me, and i make a point of seeing them in cities where i travel (not merely as conveniences, but as points of interest). but the montreal subway, with its unique stations and astonishingly quiet trains, is a particular favourite. it may lack the comprehensiveness of new york or paris, but its artistic bent, expressed above all in the uniqueness of its stations and their prominence in the cityscape, still makes it something special.

and apparently, at least one person agrees with me. heck, this guy has even developed a rating system for evaluating the relative merits of each station (and a pretty good one, too)...

to others, it may be just a method of getting from a to b, but for some of us, the few, the proud, the nerds, it's iconic, a reflection of the city itself.

Comments

as long as you're here, why not read more?

wrong turn

as some of you are aware, i have a long-term project building a family tree. this has led me to some really interesting discoveries, like the fact that i am partly descended from crazy cat people, including the patron saint of crazy cat ladies, that a progenitor of mine once defeated a french naval assault with an army of scarecrows, that my well-established scottish roots are just as much norwegian as scottish, and that a relative of mine from the early middle ages let one rip with such ferocity that that's basically all he's remembered for. but this week, while i was in the midst of adding some newly obtained information, i found that some of my previous research had gone in an unexpected direction: the wrong one.

where possible, i try to track down stories of my better-known relatives and in doing so this week, i realised that i couldn't connect one of my greatĖ£ grandfathers to his son through any outside sources. what's worse that i found numerous sources that con…

dj kali & mr. dna @ casa del popolo post-punk night

last night was a blast! a big thank you to dj tyg for letting us guest star on her monthly night, because we had a great time. my set was a little more reminiscent of the sets that i used to do at katacombes [i.e., less prone to strange meanderings than what you normally hear at the caustic lounge]. i actually invited someone to the night with the promise "don't worry, it'll be normal". which also gives you an idea of what to expect at the caustic lounge. behold my marketing genius.

mr. dna started off putting the "punk" into the night [which i think technically means i was responsible for the post, which doesn't sound quite so exciting]. i'd say that he definitely had the edge in the bouncy energy department.

many thanks to those who stopped in throughout the night to share in the tunes, the booze and the remarkably tasty nachos and a special thank you to the ska boss who stuck it out until the end of the night and gave our weary bones a ride home…

eat the cup 2018, part seven :: oh, lionheart

it all seemed so magical: england's fresh-faced youngsters marching all the way through to a semi-final for the first time since 1990. everywhere, the delirious chants of "it's coming home". and then, deep into added time, the sad realization: it's not coming home. oh england, my lionheart.

now, if we're being really strict about things, my scottish ancestors would probably disown me for supporting England, because those are the bastards who drove them off their land and sent them packing to this country that's too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. and indeed, shops in scotland have sold through their entire stock of croatian jerseys, as the natives rallied behind england's opponents in the semi-final. however, a few generations before they were starved and hounded from the lands they'd occupied for centuries, my particular brand of scottish ancestors would have encouraged me to support england [assuming that national football had even…