Go Trains

A little while ago I was riding a Go train. Before leaving, an overhead voice mentions if there are cars that will not open at the next destination and lists the car numbers. This can be quite anxiety provoking for a few reasons. First of all, if you're not familiar with the system, you will likely not be ready for it and just tune out the voice, expecting the usual spiel of welcoming you to Go transit, saying what the next destination is, and warning about the doors closing.

The first time this happened, I didn't realize the message was different until a few of the car numbers were listed, and I panicked because I couldn't be sure if they'd listed my number or not. You don't get a second chance because they don't repeat themselves, and they don't say it as they near the destination. There is also usually no one around to ask for help.

It's also difficult to know what your car number is because they put it in tiny print in an obscure location that isn't labeled. It's also very difficult to correct yourself after arriving at the destination, because they only open the doors for 15 seconds (I counted). It's intimidating even if you know you're where you need to be.

So anyway, I'm riding the train and they put out this message about certain cars not opening their doors. I'm familiar enough with the system to be paying attention and to know what my car number is. They say that my car will not open, and that I should move in the direction of the train toward the accessibility car.

I try going into the next car, which is not something that I've done from the inside before. There is a button that says it will open the door, but it doesn't. There's a latch that I pull that opens about an inch and locks. A bunch of teenagers are sitting nearby and I feel a bit of a fool for not being able to open the door.

I'm nervous that I'm not supposed to be forcing the door like this, but there's no one that I can ask for help. I put all my weight against the latch and it opens. There is a small airlock and another door which opens automatically.

The next car's number is in descending order instead of ascending, which was not what I expected based on the number given for the accessibility car. It causes pause, but since I'm moving in the direction of the train, I decide to keep going. The next car is latched shut as well.

The train comes to a halt at my destination. I hope that moving forward one car is sufficient despite the fact that I didn't make it to accessibility. The doors don't open. An older woman is looking at me and shaking her head but doesn't elaborate. In a panic, I pounce toward the doors to the next car and wrench the doors as hard as I can. A man on the other side is hammering away uselessly at the button, which isn't working on his side either. He sees what I'm doing and pulls at his handle with full force as well.

We manage to pull the doors open. He's going the opposite direction as me and I had that doubt about car order number, so I figure he must know better than me and together we ran in the direction of the car I'd just come from. We managed to get to the car I was in originally, which doesn't open and we miss our location.

Now I'm moving to a completely different city with no stops inbetween, and since the card system they use charges by distance, this means I'm paying to travel to the next stop. This is the last train, so I figure I'll have to call an uber on the other side but the next destination is a small town and there's no guarantee that there will be any drivers available, or if there are, any willing to travel between cities. The overhead voice lists car numbers that won't open at the next destination, and he mentions my number again.

It's a special kind of fear, shuttling down a rail, locked in a metal tube, further and further from anywhere you know with no way to ask for help.

I play around with the button that doesn't work and find a small bit in the centre of what was presenting itself as a button, painted the same and level with the rest of it. The door opens. I start moving between cars with this knowledge until I reach accessibility. Apparently the car numbers are random and don't go in any particular order.

I've been communicating with Lee-Anne throughout this and she tells me I should complain to the worker in accessibility. I say that there isn't anyone there, and she says there should be.

The train comes to a stop and it doesn't open. Then, an invisible door slides out of a windowless, egg-shaped protrusion on the opposite side of the car and a worker comes out. She has a portable ramp for wheelchair users. The door in front of her on the opposite side of the car from me opens (the one in front of me still doesn't).

Clearly I am the only person in the car that is getting off and I don't need the ramp, but she insists on unfolding it and putting it down before I get off. Then, as soon as I hop by her, she folds up the ramp and jumps back on the car right before the doors shut. I wonder how someone who actually needed the ramp would manage to get off in the allotted 15 seconds when it seems like she spent seven seconds putting it down and seven picking it back up.

I call an uber and luckily I get someone who brings me to Guelph.

Last time Lee-Anne took a Go train, it had barely left the station when it shut down from complications. The overhead voice said that there would be shuttle busses that would replace the train. She gets off with another passenger and the two of them return to the station where they find an employee fielding questions from customers. Lee-Anne asked where the shuttle buses were, to which the employee said they'd already left. Those busses must have left almost exactly as the overhead voice announced their presence, as Lee-Anne had to get off in the allotted 15 seconds and went directly to the station at the same pace as another passenger that was equally confused by the behaviour of the shuttle busses.

Apparently the employee fielding questions was pretty rude, too, and, unprompted, responded to the confused look of the jilted passengers with something to the tune of "Hey, it's not my problem"

The Go train system works well when it works, but when it doesn't, it really doesn't.