Is on display at your nearest GO station. I suggest you drop by and get a taste of it. I stepped off the GO in Hamilton, and boy -- was I in for a surprise! (Or perhaps I shouldn’t say that, as service has seriously deteriorated during COVID-19. And during COVID, of course, there was ample excuse.) Well, anyway, I was very afraid when — on my return to Hamilton last weekend — I stepped onto the hard cement of the new station at West Harbour. I hadn’t taken that particular train in awhile. As usual for GO there is no signage — or, if there is — it’s in some sort of cartoony language with illustrations of people in dresses or pants doing odd things. These are incomprehensible unless you think in pictures (which I imagine some people do). I didn’t know how to make my way up to the the James Street exit of the station, and there was no one around — except a couple of guys in construction vests. None of them was from Hamilton though. Finally someone leaving the train yelled at me ‘It’s that way!’ so I made my way to the end of the platform. I know that the station is six flights up, and I have arthritis, so I wasn’t about to attempt the stairs. Alas, the elevator was broken. So, I pushed a button and asked the person who answered what I should do. He seemed annoyed that I had bothered him, and reminded me with some irritation that ‘This is the GO emergency line!". There was nothing about the sign above the buzzer to indicate it was for emergencies, just a picture of someone yelling into a speaker. (Is that universal sign language for emergency? Sorry, I was not informed….) So I had to struggle up the stairs. I opened the door to the stairway. It looked like someone might have thrown up there-- i.e. not quite digested their minestrone soup. I climbed the first flight of steps and there — on a window ledge — was a rather frightening array of drug paraphernalia. As I continue to struggled up the stairs, I heard boisterous noise— someone was certainly having fun — and when I reached the top I could see that it was a crack party of some sort — there were a couple of guys dancing around, shirtless — and of course maskless. Wow. They seemed not to take any notice of me -- which was good, because there was no staff around, as usual. That is basically the case at all GO stations. I’m sure if you phoned GO -- (don’t do it, I’ve tried, it’s useless) -- they would tell you they are short staffed due to COVID. But what has obviously happened is that GO has decided to go ‘people-less.' This is what our dystopian future looks like folks — there are no people in it. The atmosphere at most GO stations resembles the famous Twilight Zone episode A Kind of Stopwatch. (In case you missed it, it’s about a man who owns a stopwatch that permanently freezes time — he tries to talk to people but they are frozen in time and cannot respond). GO is terribly fond of its recorded announcements (“Just a reminder, to take all your belongings when you leave the bus! And don’t forget to tap off!”) which have the unfortunate effect of making me feel as if I'm in a concentration camp. But it seems GO now believes that recorded announcements and ticket vending machines will permanently replace real people. What if you’re an old woman (or a young one) taking GO at night? Are you expected to party with the crack addicts? I suppose one could. Certainly at the Hunter Street GO station they are having a very good time. As far as I can tell, the crackheads have taken up residence there. I guess that -- in what appears to be an ongoing crusade to help the homeless and addicted -- GO has made stations more hospitable for drug users — in the following ways. First, (as mentioned above) there is no staff (except for slightly frightened looking young women in vests who no one expects to control the often massive, tattooed, usually nutty crack guys who are high as kites). Second, GO has gathered most of the seating and tied it up. This means that if you are waiting for a bus you will end up sitting with a crack addict (they will probably try and chat with you — or with the air — it’s best to just smile and nod). And last but not least, GO has installed ultraviolet lighting (it kills germs!) in the washrooms. (Yay! Party!) This makes the GO washrooms look and feel a little bit like Studio 54. You may not be aware -- but homeless people are queer too -- and the last time I was in the washroom at the Hunter GO station in Hamilton, I’m pretty sure the guy living in the stall was getting it off with another homeless guy. More power to them, I say. It really is nice and thoughtful of GO to singlehandedly take on the dire, twin social problems of homelessness and crack addiction by making these guys so welcome at GO stations! A heartfelt thank you, GO! I, for one, never had the opportunity to visit Studo 54 in New York City in its heyday -- so I am very grateful to GO for setting up a kind of pseudo-Studio 54 in the washroom at Hunter GO! Because despite COVID and lockdowns and ‘staff shortages’ people still need to live. Somewhere. And they will. And there’s just no stopping them.
I guess that’s why they call it ‘GO.’
