What the “L”?

Believe it or not there are some things that I miss about tax season once it is over. I miss having work to do – don’t get me wrong I have work – but it is not the same. There is less “energy” in the office without the emanate deadline looming. Another thing I miss is driving into work with Andrew. Because of the hours we work and the traffic and L schedule, driving is our best option for busy season. However, when we go back to working a normal 9-5 schedule, it is faster and cheaper for us to commute downtown on the L.
I used to enjoy commuting on the L, it gave me time to just enjoy being a passenger – I don’t have to worry about driving, so I can read, sleep, look out the windows, daydream, listen to music, or any combination of the above. Don’t get me wrong every month or so there would be what I would refer to as an “L Experience” – something that can only be fully understood in the context of a commuter train. For instance, one morning I and the other L passengers got to “enjoy” the serenade of a fellow passenger. He was listening to his uncensored elicitedly lyriced rap songs on his iPod, singing aloud without regard to offending anyone; he surprisingly never missed a word or a beat. I am sure it was just his form of artistic expression. Or there are the times when you step on an L, the doors close, and you notice that everyone has their noses under their scarves or tucked into their coat or shirt, and then it hits you – the fresh aroma of urination. When these experiences were infrequent they were tolerable.
But in the recent days it seems that these “L Experiences” have become more and more regular – I would even claim that they have started happening daily. Take this week for instance. Andrew and I are sitting next to each other as we normally do – we ride the Purple Line together – and then part ways at Belmont when I have to transfer to the Red Line. The train has made its scheduled stop at Howard, and the masses are crowding on the L. I am half staring off at the people loading onto the train, and half day-dreaming, when all of a sudden, this woman rudely asked “Can I HELP YOU?” I quickly informed her that I was not looking at her (I really wasn’t.) She just sat there smirking the whole way to Belmont like she had caught me doing something devious. It was really odd.
Now fast forward to Tuesday – I have already transferred to the Red Line, to a very PACKED car. To set the stage, there are doors between each car of the train, they are there for emergency use only – you are not supposed to pass from car to car, even though the doors make it possible to do so. I am pressed against one of these doors – minding my business – getting my feet stepped on repeatedly by an old man who never once apologized. Now it should be noted that from time to time a beggar will board a train and walk their way from the back of the train to the front of the train by use of these doors. On this particular day, the cars were so PACKED I would have thought it impossible for someone to move through the trains this way. I was wrong. We were pulling out of the station right before the one I get off at, and all of a sudden the door slams into my back, and there is a woman there trying to push her way through the crowd – and screaming about the terrible atrocities done unto her just that morning and asking for $30. Just as soon as I got my footing back, the old man who had previously been stepping on my feet, had managed to dial the number for the Chicago Transit Authority, and was reporting that there was a “mentally disturbed woman” on car #5246. To which the woman replied “I may be mental, but that doesn’t mean that all these things didn’t happen to me.” To which an older lady on the other side of the train screamed “CALL THE POLICE IF YOU NEED HELP.” The “mental” woman, knowing her fate if she remained on the train – after the old man had reported her – decided she was going to leave the train and announced her intent to the rest of the car. The old man informed the CTA dispatcher that she was getting off, to which she replied “Of course I am getting off; I don’t want to stay on a train with a bunch of rich snobs.” We finally pulled into the station; she followed me off and proceeded to enter the train heading in the opposite direction.
Needless to say, I was very happy to have a client visit today. It was a gorgeous day, and I enjoyed every mile of my drive to and from the clients location with sigur rós blasting on my radio. The only way it would have been better, is if Holly were in the car with me, and we were singing along at the top of our lungs with our own made up lyrics. But I guess that will have to wait until August, wee err.This is a random post – if you read it all you are a better person then I.