Station wasn't pretty, but it mattered

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There used to be a beverage room attached to the bus depot.

It was a charmless, grimy place. The tables were sticky with spilled beer. The glass ashtrays were rarely used as a substitute for a quick heel grind on the floor.

The bored strippers took their clothes off with all the enthusiasm of someone headed for dental surgery. They ignored the drinkers. For the most part, the drinkers ignored them.

Some of the clientele were university students who could only afford one cheap, foamy beer. Others were people in no real hurry, waiting to be driven from one place to another. And from there, on to another place.

Like the bus depot itself, an air of despair hung in that bar. That, and a fug of smoke mixed with the smell of diesel that could make eyes water.

The downtown bus depot is closing Friday. Bus travellers will soon be departing from a shiny new building out by the airport. The indigents who use the barn-like depot to keep warm will have to find another place to sit.

There have been major overhauls to the depot over the decades. There's a brightly painted kids' area with depictions of animals dancing across the walls. The decorations can almost make you overlook the pockmarked floor. It looks like a series of small explosions have taken place over time.

Two young women sit in plastic moulded chairs in the kiddy section. They're talking about events from the night before.

"You got a bruise in the shape of a fist on your back," says one to her friend.

Her friend shifts in a vain attempt to examine her own kidney area.

"I wish I could remember what happened," she says. "I knew it was a tough bar."

They begin to giggle.

Inside the gift store, all souvenirs are 40 per cent off. It's an odd, slight collection dominated by shot glasses and salt shakers emblazoned with a loon and the word "Canada." The "Polar Bear Droppings" (chocolate-covered cashews) are almost out of stock.

The lockers are at the far end of the terminal, next to one of the two photo booths. If you want to store your gear, it will cost $4 for the first six hours and a buck for each additional hour.

Lose your key and that will set you back another $10.

The bus depot likely contains the largest collection of pay phones in the city.

A Sal's restaurant moved in after the bar was hosed down and disinfected for the last time. It added a real touch of class to the place.

When the Holiday Inn And Suites went on the corner of Portage and Colony, it was clear the old guard had to move on.

The office tower above the terminal now holds government offices, a nest of lawyers, a financial planner and a set of marriage counsellors.

The smell of smoke is long gone from the corridors. A neat sign points puffers to the designated smoking area. It's through the back door and next to the dumpsters.

A tiny Asian man in a Mr. Clean Up shirt pushes a floor washer across the floor, nearly colliding with an unattended child racing barefoot through the terminal. The chubby boy's feet are black with dirt. His heavyset mother ignores him.

As clean and tarted up as they've made this depot (and as spectacular as the new one will be), bus terminals will never be glamorous. They lack the splendor of old railway stations with their vaulted ceilings and polished wood railings.

They never held the sophisticated promise of airports, where passengers gather to jet off to exotic locations. Here they might be headed one-way to Toronto with stops at every town in between. A ticket costs $141. The trip takes one day, seven hours and 30 minutes.

Still, they sit and wait. A sunburned older couple scratches away at lottery tickets, clearly hoping their luck is about to change. A long-haired man covered with single-colour tattoos mutters to himself. People are carrying their possessions in roller bags and in garbage bags.

They're every age and every ethnicity.

Nearly a quarter of Greyhound's passengers are students. Many more are seniors. The others? Well, they've somewhere to be, a new place to try out and no immediate deadline to arrive. For them, the beauty of a bus depot doesn't matter a tinker's damn.

They're packed and ready to roll.

lindor.reynolds@freepress.mb.ca

Republished from the Winnipeg Free Press print edition August 13, 2009 B2