Oct. 20 - Sheppard & Osgoode

This morning I intended to get to Sheppard station, in the upper reaches of the city, to catch the morning rush hour. But I had an actual gig last night that went late, and it was hard to get out of bed. I was surprised at how different it felt, last night, to be playing for an actual audience of people sitting still.

I finally made it up to Sheppard at 9:15 and realized that finding the yellow dots would be particularly difficult. Sheppard Station is so huge, it’s more like an airport than a subway station, with two levels of tracks and many hallways on several levels. I felt as if I’d moved up a notch in subway station posh-ness, from the 1950s architecture of the Bloor-Danforth line to the sleek modern terminals to the north.

Sheppard was particularly state-of-the-art, because an entire new arm had been built onto the subway system starting at Sheppard. When I look at the subway maps today, compared to the ones I was familiar with from the 80’s, the new branch at the top always makes me feel confused.

This deluxe station had another tempting feature: a Cinnabon cinnamon roll outlet. At first I thought this was a big plus. But then I realized it was competition.

Playing at Sheppard did feel like playing in an airport, with people moving swiftly past me as if they were on a moving sidewalk. Most of them didn’t even glance up while they walked purposefully toward the station or the buses.

A friend of mine came to listen this morning, pretending at times to be simply an interested stranger. We wondered if this ruse might help business, but it didn’t seem to. I was worried that she’d be disheartened by the number of people walking past, but instead she was encouraged by the people who made a point of stopping. (Note to self: optimists make excellent friends!) Also, she noticed before I did that I received an important donation today: my first subway token.

+++

Later this afternoon, I found myself back at Osgoode to finish my amp test, having never connected with the TTC fellow the day before. While I played, one of my fantasies about playing in the subway came true. A woman stopped halfway down the corridor, turned around and deliberately walked back towards me to listen. As I finished the song, she asked, "Did you write that?".