Thursday, 8 August 2013

SO APPARENTLY EVERYONE ON THE GO TRAIN IS A WHORE

WELL IF I'D KNOWN THIS KIND OF 
MERRIMENT WAS GOING ON 
I'd have tried to stay awake!
Every day after work, I get on the train, find a corner seat, cross my legs so no one can get a free peek and promptly fall asleep. 

What I am, it turns out, is BORING. Because while I am sleeping, the rest of the GO train is engaging in a paid-fare orgy, if one is to believe the "Shout Outs" section of the otherwise craptastic Tonight newspaper they shove at you as you board the train,
"Well this is perfect," I say to myself as I accept the free rag. "This will catch the drool while I'm sleeping."

One afternoon I actually opened the thing and read it. "Yawn. *page flip* Boring *page flip* What a goddam waste of cheap recycled pa ... whoa. What? WHAT???" 
That's right. I had just landed on the "Shout Outs" page. 

For those of you who aren't unhappily married slutballs who don't immediately associate the daily commute with dropped panties and hairy, groping hands, this section is where horny commuters expunge the crushing boredom of their work life. Which is bad enough. BUT THEN THEY TELL EVERYBODY ABOUT IT!

Get a load of this hormone-soaked piffle: 
"Looking for one of the many beautiful women on the LSE line to have some secret fun with! Bored and looking for some excitement. Have you been thinking the same? Mature, curvy and confident preferred..;). @ourlittlesecret"
"Thirty eight year old married Toronto man looking to be teased. love the chase, love the intrigue the subtleties of flirting. Want to have a little fun with no strings? Teasemepleasetoronto@gmail.com
"Last night on the 4:53 LSE express to Pickering ... a man across from me took TWO photos up my skirt by holding his iPhone under a book on his lap. I then had to sit for 40 minutes across from the creep who denied what had clearly happened,=."
Or, sadly, this one:
"Lost child’s shoe at Barrie GO Station (black croc size 6/7). Would be  grateful if someone could return to union station to help out hobbling son." (Dude, your kid was smart enough to lose the crocs you made him wear and you're recruiting an entire trainload of people to help find it? Buzz off! And by the way, this is the whoring section of the newspaper! Your excellent parenting is not welcome here.)
Are these people for real, I wondered aloud to a friend.
"Oh they're for real," she said. "It's well known. There are a couple of party coaches, you walk into them and if you don't like what you're seeing, they tell you to leave." 

Well I was obsessed now. 
"Which coaches?" I asked. "How can this be? I never heard a peep! Who would have thought Brampton ... "
"Oh no, it's not Brampton," my friend said. "It's the Lakeshore Line East. It's the Milton line. It's basically any line but the Brampton line."
Ah. Of course. I should have known.  
Fucking boring bloody Brampton can't even get its sleaze right.