Yesterday, I schlepped out to what is at once the periphery of nowhere and the cultural locus of the Spacers, the Gladstone Hotel, for Toronto Transit Camp. I could arrive at only at 1100 for the event, a celebration of Toronto transit fans that opened this Sunday (at 0930) at almost the same time the subway does on every Sunday (at 0900). I was told I was late, that I had missed the Jewish-run aboriginal opening circle, and that no speaking slots were available. At this point I hadn’t even managed to hang up my coat in the jam-packed closet.
It turned out there was space after all, or at least after I was later encouraged to give some other group the entire room even though neither of us needed more than half of it. I gave the PYJAMA-PARTY REMIX of my presentation on TTC signage, a topic I have followed off and on since 1994. (I have a full 320 signage photos.)
This would be the fourth and last version of the presentation after the online S5 slideshow, the five-minute version I delivered to the TTC itself last week, and the enormous coffee-table-book version I designed and printed at some expense. (My 2:00 TTC presentation started at 5:15 sharp, and, after great effort, I kept within three seconds of the five-minute limit. TTC commissioners ordered a report on signage, an immediate action I am told is unusual.)
I stood in the Gladstone vitrine, using somebody else’s PowerBook, and ran the slideshow for the 15-odd people present. How amusing to find David Crow holding an APPLAUSE sign outside the window.
Apart from the freezing cold, I can report the following: Ordinary conversation with Adam Giambrone, exactly as if he were just like us; shaking hands with head Spacer Matt Blackett; introducing another Spacer to the d00d behind the video advertising in the subway; pretty much blanking on my audience’s question “What can we do to help?”; and working on a Design Slam™ (Slam du designMC) about notification systems for bus stops.
I determined that Bob Brent, formerly of the TTC, and Ed Drass of Metro are right chappies. And who the hell were these total dynamo chicks who not only put together an entire diorama of an improved subway car but had a slideshow of it all ready to go on computer?
I finally left the event, renewing my acquaintance with the 1950s by walking up a staircase into a GM Fishbowl bus, handing the driver a little paper ticket, and receiving from him a little paper transfer.