On Rideau Street, a boy of about eight drinks an iced cappuccino at the back of the 18. A man sits listlessly beside him, his open mouth revealing a row of uneven teeth. He snaps to attention when he notices something that offends him—a passenger who is hogging an entire seat with her grocery bags. Angrily, he starts talking to the boy, pointing, “You see her? She must think she’s better than everybody else, like her bags are made of gold or something.” He and the boy get off in front of the Laundromat. Outside, they move quickly. With their heads down, they hurry past people, as if their survival was dependant on evasion.
Behind sunglasses, a man wearing a do rag head wrap sits up front near the driver. He has a tattoo of a lion on one arm and a shark on the other. He relates to the predators. Look out! Don’t mess with him! Sit somewhere else!
Three girls giggle with one another as they ride the bus. The girl wearing a skull and bones bracelet cannot stop moving. She’s dancing, telling the others that the number 18 is a lame route, “it’s retarded, it, like, takes forever to get anywhere!” The other girls excitedly agree, they’re going to a party, and they want to get there quickly.
On Donald, a woman in a baseball hat has three bottles of water pinched between her colourless thighs. She looks around at all the other passengers with suspicion, and then pulls out a little bottle of antibacterial sanitizer and washes her hands. Thoroughly.
On Frances, the bus travels past brick homes that look like they might be city housing. Two police cars sit in front of Lola’s confectionary. The cops talk to distinguished looking woman who has an expression on her face that suggests she’s sick of the neighbourhood punks.
Wearing gold shoes, two bosomy black girls in hot pants get on. Sitting in different seats, they chew gum and look out the window. Bored, they project an air of self-assurance, like they don’t care what you think.
At St. Laurent and Tremblay an older East Indian man with impressive tufts of hair protruding from his ears sits down and starts to read an old Robert Ludlum paperback. He’s wearing a grey fedora that he’s probably owned for fifty years.
A young woman dressed in sportswear that matches her baby blue LuLu Lemon bag appears confident of her beauty, like she’s used to turning down dates. Each day she must practice Yoga and watch what she eats. She flips through a copy of People magazine, lingering over a photo spread of Cameron Diaz. As she scans the pictures, she looks like she’s taking mental notes for her future, when she, too, will be a star.
At the St. Laurent shopping center, a man calls his wife to find out what’s for dinner. He seems pleased to find out that it’s Polish sausages.
At the Overbrook community center, a few guys shoot hoops while a group of flirty girls stand nearby. In shorts and tank tops, the girls stretch, as if their muscles might be sore, hoping to catch the eye of one of the shirtless players.
A fit woman in Lycra gets on with a pair of rollerblades slung over her shoulder. After her workout, she treats herself to a sundae that she pulls out of her knapsack. She eats carefully, saving the Raspberries for the very end.
A sad looking woman removes a greeting card from her purse. When she opens it and reads what’s inside, she raises two fingers to her lips, as if something has just touched her heart.