To the north of High Park station, it’s practically all houses, apartments and condos, while to the south, there’s its namesake, Accordion City’s largest park. On weekday mornings, it’s only really busy between 7:30 and 8:45, after which it receives a trickle of passengers (relative to the downtown or major suburban stations) until the evening rush.
As a result, High Park station doesn’t seem as heavily staffed, which means that the ticket collector is often alone, with no one to relieve him or her when it’s time for a bathroom run (or to use the increasing popular office culture term, a “bio break”). When nature calls, the collector answers, and this sign goes up:
While it would’ve been as easy as pie to glide through the turnstile without paying, I and four other people who showed up at the same time dutifully deposited our fares into the collection box. I’m pretty pleased that the honour system still works in my little corner of the city, and seeing this little example of civilization in action made my morning.
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