Bomb Scare

This morning, I get to Bloor station and notice a lot of people staring down the tunnel. When the train arrives, the power shuts down and the driver tells us, that, due to to a "security situation", we had to hold at this station.

Nosy people pour out of the cars, like blood leaking out of a severed artery. Everyone starts walking towards the end of the platform, drawn to it like fruit flies to rotting flesh. And then I notice a couple of officers and security personnel walking past.

Don't fucking tell me some Islamic fundamentalist has chosen to blow up Bloor station today, I think.

I'm strangely calm even though, in retrospect, a little bit of panic wouldn't have been entirely out of order.

I call Patti and let her know I'll be late. I cringe, remembering I was late Monday, too. And when I call, I hear the shakiness in my voice, as though my suspicions about the aforementioned Islamic fundamentalist are actual facts and not just the result of an overactive imagination. And like some highly contagious virus, the fear spreads and Patti tells me to "stay safe."

I stand around some more. At this point, I haven't gotten my period yet, so things are a-okay. It's not like I have any burning yen to be at work, you know?

So, Michelle leaves me this voicemail. She checked in with Leanne, whose boyfriend works for the TTC, and apparently, YES, it WAS a bomb scare this morning.

"We're glad you made it into work!" she said with a laugh.

Um, yeah.