Public transit. It’s a daily routine for many, including myself. You take it to work. You take it home. You take it to go shopping. Bus, subway, Metra, whatever your vehicle, you end up spending at least an hour if not more a day using it.
For some people, this time spent seems to also mean that it’s a second home where they can do whatever they want.
Case in point: last night, as I rode the train downtown to meet friends for dinner (which was at Frontera Grill, fantastic by the way), I observed two egregious errors of passengers that only adds to my laundry list of public transit no-nos.
First up: the nail clipper. Clipping you nails is something I prefer to do in the privacy of my home, or have done at a salon when I get a manicure. One rider last night felt comfortable enough to clip his finger nails right there on the train. Snap! Snap! went the clippers, and dirty finger nails fell to the floor. I could only cringe. This is not your private bathroom, this is a public train. Nasty!
Then the spitter appeared. A semi intoxicated Cubs fan (hey, if you were a Cubs fan, you’d have to be drunk too) stumbled onto the car and sat across from me with a have case of Miller GD in one hand and a red Solo cup in the other. After a brief moment he lifted the cup to his mouth, and- you guessed it- spit!
I’m gagging at this point.
Chew and snuff are the grossest tobacco products out there. I’m a smoker, so many people would argue what I do is foul. Maybe, but I don’t smoke on the train, and besides, my smoke doesn’t have brown tobacco grounds and spittle in it. It’s so…frankly I equate snuff being a bit white trash. At least smoking is somewhat elegant in comparison.
So joining annoying travelers who feel the need to shout on their phone at the top of their lungs, the trashy gluttons who eat their chicken wings and then wipe their greasy hands on the seat next to them, and the bad music lovers who can’t seem to afford headphones, I add the gross chew guy and the idiots who clip their nails to the list of people who should be banned from public transit.
Category Archives: CTA
Shut UP!!!
I’ve been gone a while. I’ve had a bit to deal with and sort out, so sorry. But I have a small rant I must get off my chest.
I get on the bus on Monday to go to my friends house, and the woman who boarded right in front of me struck up a conversation with the driver. A loud conversation. About how great her 30 day CTA pass was. And why the $20 pass would leave her stranded. And that’s why the 30 day pass was so great. And that it expired at 2:44pm that afternoon. And how she was so glad her friend told her about the 30 day pass. And so on. It was riding with a loud, obnoxious and completely socially unaware Miss Daisy.
Okay, great you found some convenience in your sad life lady, but telling the bus driver and everyone else on the bus about it at the top of your lungs is not necessary, nor welcome. For that matter, you are not even supposed to talk to the driver protractedly, as it could risk an accident. On she went, from the moment she boarded at Elmdale all the way down Broadway. The best part: the driver was encouraging the conversation, and kept talking to the lady.
Finally as the bus approached Foster, and after a brief moment when we thought she had nothing more to say, she kicked right back in to the 30 day pass love fest. I had sat silent for 15 minutes, but frustrated and annoyed, I let loose a very loud ‘eeeeNOUGH! SHUT UP!’ And yet, the only acknowledgment I received from this woman was her outstretched hand, as if she was saying ‘oh no, I’m not done, be quiet now’. She gave me the hand. And she finished her ramble to the bus driver! The bitch!
After she finished, the bus driver asked if there was a problem, and Miss Daisy herself turned around and asked the same thing. I simply said that the loud conversation was distracting, inappropriate in volume and I didn’t like that it was interfering with my bus ride. Then the guy sitting one seat behind me, who was also quite annoyed at the woman and her loud talking, chimed in “And you’re not supposed to talk to the driver for safety reasons. So stop talking.”
The woman looks at both of us, and then simply stated, ‘I’m sorry you two are having a bad day, but I can talk to whomever I want.”
At this moment I was losing it. I blurted back, “Not when it’s distracting to the rest of the riders. I don’t care about your 30 day pass, I don’t want to listen to you go on about it anymore!”
“Are you done?” she haughtily remarked back.
“Are YOU done?” was my snappish retort.
“Are you done?” was her reply.
I was. I stood up, as we finally reached Foster and had stopped, spat sharply “Fuck you, I’ve had it, I’ll walk,” and stomped my way off the bus. As I looked to the driver, who seemed completely oblivious about why there may be some angry passengers, I stopped and asked “What is your number?”, pointing to her shoulder where her driver’s number was. She looked at me, turned her shoulder away from me, and pointed to the front of the bus with a curt ‘it’s there.’ All the while, Miss Daisy was now screeching unintelligibly, loud enough I could hear her half a block down as I walked away.
So to miss loud and obnoxious on the 36 Broadway bus on Monday, May 31 at 1:04pm heading southbound, with driver number R285 egging you on, I say shut the hell up. And to the CTA, who after I left a message to voice my complaint about this whole fiasco, and they never called back, I say fuck you. You don’t care that some screeching crazy was distracting one of your drivers, causing a commotion, and annoyed other passengers. The driver didn’t care that she was violating CTA safety guidelines designed to protect the rest of us. And you obviously can’t be bothered to contact a customer who voiced a concern and complaint because it would look too much like you actually cared about what the rider/customer thinks.
Oh yeah, and you owe me $30 for new sandals since I ruined mine having to walk in the rain because of this whole fiasco. I’ll be expecting the check in the mail.
Line jumpers
One thing I find annoying yet somewhat amusing is the way people rush and push their way through life’s everyday minutia.
Maybe it’s at the supermarket or at checkout in Target. Perhaps it’s waiting to get the best seat at the movies. Sometimes it’s while waiting for the train or bus. Wherever it is, it’s a trip to watch people run to get first in line.
Okay, admit it, there are times you do it too. Hell, I do it, if I’m running late. We’re human, it’s natural to do it. But what gives me a rash is when people think they are entitled to be first, and simply walk in front of everyone else. You remember these people… from our school days, they are the ones who thought they could just cut or jump the line. Like they were something special.
And it’s the same ones who do it today. For instance, the women at the bus stop in Evanston, when a bus approaches, they run up and push their way past everyone else to get on the bus first. I’ve actually had these women knock into me once or twice. They act like the bus is going to leave them behind, or that they have a right to board first, but frankly, why not wait in line like everyone else?
The issue become that people become complacent and let this become the norm. Come on folks, stop it! Say something. Even if it’s as simple as, “Hey, what’s the hurry?” or as telling as, “Hey asshole! Who the fuck do you think you are!?”, let’s end it. Because no one needs to go through life thinking they are that entitled.
New year, new look, new rants, same old stupid people
For those who haven’t noticed, it’s 2010 (That’s Twenty-ten, not two thousand and ten). So I’m trying a new look for the page. Trendy? Unnecessary? Unsightly? Perhaps. But then again, it’s my page, so why not.
Some things will not change. Like Pat Robertson and Rush Limbaugh… yep, they are still douche bags, particularly since they blame the people of Haiti for the earthquake devastation that befell them. That’s right, all of those devil worshipers from Haiti two centuries ago made a deal with Satan… to live in an impoverish third world country just so it all can be destroyed by mother nature and plate tectonics today, kill thousands, make people suffer even more and have the rest of the world rush to their aid to help.
Yep, that sounds like a real win/win for the people there, right?
If this was really a deal with the devil, Pat, maybe I’m dense but I don’t see where Haiti ever got the advantage in all of this. Oh, wait, maybe because that line of thinking is completely insane? Needless to say, Rush and Pat are heartless morons that need to die. And bonus to Keith Olbermann for telling them where to go and how far.
And in Chicago… we still have Todd Stroger, Cook County Board President, who vows to thank himself if he wins reelection to the board. For what, managing to stay alive and not get his ass beaten down for being a crook? Or for hypnotizing the poor of Chicago into believing that raising taxes and paying his family six figures to do nothing is good for the city? And Blago… when did being a crooked governor with the worst hair this side of Trump permit him celebrity status? The hair…aha… that’s how he managed a spot on Celebrity Apprentice. At least we have the Olympics… oooh, too soon? Whatever. But we still have great reliable public transit…just kidding again, it’s still the CTA. And they are cutting back yet again. Pay more for less service, that sounds reasonable to me. And if you have to travel after midnight, good luck after February 7. And be glad I don’t have a car to park at one of those $4.25 an hour meters.
Ooh, let’s go back to celebrities for a moment. Jay Leno and NBC… yeah, that’s a big old mess. Yeah to Conan for escaping with $45 million and his dignity, it’s way past time to escape that sinking ship. And way to go Law & Order: SVU’s Mariska Hargitay for calling out Leno and his prime time foray for bringing everyone else down. Don’t mess with Olivia Benson, Jay you half moon chinny chin chin wonder-mess, she’ll cut a bitch! And speaking of cutting bitches, who told MTV that NY trash was worth watching? That’s why they send it all to the Jersey Shore. I mean, come on, Snooki? She’s the Pillsbury doughgirl with Princess Leia’s cinnabun on top of her head. This is not entertainment. If I wanted to watch that kind of train-wreck, I’ll just ride the 36 Broadway bus on a given day.
Yep, out with the old, in with the same old. And smile like you mean it.
Intentionally Rude
I don’t enjoy working Sunday mornings, which thankfully will not be an issue in about a week. But it’s my last week at my current job, and I need to review a bunch of admin stuff with the team before I leave. So Sunday is a necessity.
The commute was quite for the most part. A strange and creepy mix of people are out at 9
am Sunday morning. There’s the church goers,the random couple making out on the platform (Get a room!), the drunks stumbling home from last night, and the working class like me.
And then there are just some rude people.
As I departed from the Davis Street station this morning, I headed for the south door. As I approached, I saw an older guy approaching as well. But as pushed to open the door, the guy, after watching me for a beat, ripped the same door open, pushed his way past me, and stepped on my foot, all in a way that really looked and felt deliberate.
I, naturally, was pissed. ‘Uh, excuse me, what the fuck is your problem?’ I exclaimed.
His reaction? ‘Oh, nice language, I hope you are proud of yourself,’ he smirked.
But I wasn’t done. I was wronged here, and my foot is throbbing. ‘Umm, you saw me opening the door, you pushed through, and stepped on my foot. What’s the problem??!’
No reply, just a smirk.
In a moment of fantasy, I imagined taking my grocery bag with my lunch in it and swinging it, clocking him across the smug looking face. But restraint took over. So I just issued a terse ‘Go fuck yourself’ and headed to work.
Yeah, my Sunday best language wasn’t appropriate, but neither was stepping on my foot and shoving your way past me when you see I’m exiting a building. Not to mention, these are double doors, but he chose to yank open the exact door I was pushing open to exit through. He was deliberately being rude. And of course, tried to act superior by reprimanding me for my obscenities.
Should have let my fantasy take over. The thought of food splattered all over that smug face is so fulfilling. I guess I hope karma does the job for me.
CTA strikes again!
Livid is the only word that can describe me after a fiasco of a train ride the other night.
I managed to get off of work early on Saturday, and decided to ehad out and join Rick M. and co at Big Chick’s for Euchre. I was thrilled that I was walking out of the store in Evanston only a quarter past 4 on a Saturday afternoon, especially since I still managed to work 50 hours this week. I meandered down Davis Street, made a quick stop in the 7/11 to get smokes, and was able to sneak one in before grabbing a 4:35 train to Howard. I was a bit tired, so I rested my eyes for the normally 10 minute trip.
I now have become used to sitting on the train outside of Howard for a bit, as it’s typical that the Purple Line, in its descent toward the Howard station, ends up coming to a stop just beyond the train yard, and with those three annoying beeps the automated rote CTA announcement blares over the train speakers: “Attention passengers, we are standing momentarily, waiting for signals ahead. We expect to be moving shortly.” So naturally on this ride i didn’t as much look up, and instead sat back, my head resting against the cool tempered window, waiting for the train to pull in so we could all disembark and make our transfers, with mine being to the Red Line. It wasn’t until after a moment, when a second announcement was made by the conductor himself, asking for our momentary patience, that I took note of the situation around me.
It was a mere 4:46pm, so I still had almost an hour to get to Argyle and the bar, but the yard below us was packed. A Yellow Line, from Skokie, was just pulling up, and crept to a stop just beyond the overpass on which my train sat. Not one, but two Red Line trains, evidentally just in from the south side, were stalled in the turnaround. Behind us, another Purple Line sat, just at the crest of the hill, waiting for us to pull in. With the knowledge that Howard station was down to a mere two platforms, as the regular weekend construction on the center lanes was commencing, I knew we might be in for a bit of a wait.
How long of a wait, however, was the most criminal part.
We sat on the train in limbo, watching both Red line trains as well as a third one, and the Skokie train, all pull up and into the station. For 45 minutes. Yes folks, it wasn’t until 5:25pm that my train finally pulled up to the platform and let us off of it. miracles of miracles, no one had gotten ill, had any kind of medical fiasco, or anything like that in all of the time we sat there, because Lord knows there really wasn’t much of a way off the train. However, we were a rowdy, rather pissed off bunch, annoyed at the long wait, the fact that no one on the platform knew what was going on, and many of us running behind for some other appointment or such.
Immediately a few of my fellow passengers began to drill CTA personnel on the platform on what the delay had been. The first reply had been the ever intelligent, ‘Uh, gee, sorry, I’m not sure,’ which of course did not soothe our tempers. Then, as one of the conductors was attempting to re board the train we had just left so to move it to the opposite side, we inquired when the next Red Line would be coming in. His response was absurd, ignorant and completely insensitive:’Gee, you just missed one, it just left.’ Unfuckingbelievable! I immediately snapped back at him, ‘Well, gee, maybe if we all had not been TRAPPED on the fucking train out there, maybe we wouldn’t have missed it!’ He simply shrugged, shut the door, and went on his merry way.
Then announcements began to echo over the platform, ‘We apologize. blah blah blah, signal errors, blah blah blah…’ with the notification that it would also be an extended period before the next southbound train would be arriving. It was now 5:35pm, and wanting to get to cards on time, I headed to the far end of the platform to find the exit, and descended to the bus stop below… where not one bus of the 8 routes that pull into Howard was anywhere in site. What the fuck is going on?I tried to hail a cab for another 5 minutes, but seeing that others around me were scrambling to do the same, I sprinted to Clark Street, just a block west. There I was able to flag a cab that got me to Chicks with minutes to spare.
I was FURIOUS, and still am. What the fuck kind of ridiculous transit system is this city trying to pawn off on us? There is no excuse for leaving passengers trapped on a train for a period longer than 10 minutes, unless there was a serious accident or it was for our safety. This situation involved neither of these scenarios, it came down to human stupidity and laziness, and all around piss poor organization. The system has to be fixed, and soon. If I ever have to sit like that on a train again, Ron Huberman’s head is going to roll, and I will have his job… and his balls.
Random bits at 2 am
It’s late and I’m bored, and I haven’t blogged in a while. Just wanted to warn you in advance.
A strange blurb from the Chicago Sun Times (suntimes.com):
‘The family of a Chicago woman sued The Loreal Group Tuesday, claiming chemicals in the company’s Soft Sheen Carson hair dye killed her.
While coloring her hair with a Dark and Lovely product in July 2006, Cornelia Morris suffered shortness of breath and later died at Jackson Park Hospital. An autopsy found that Morris died from “an anaphylactic reaction to hair dye,” according to the lawsuit. The 10-count wrongful-death suit seeks at least $500,000 in damages.
“We adhere to the most rigorous standards for product safety, so that our consumers can purchase and use our products with complete confidence,” said Jennifer S. James, a spokeswoman for L’Oreal USA, who added she had not yet seen the lawsuit and had no further comment.’
Okay, very random, and I feel for the family, but really: these things come with a warning. Like cigarettes and alcohol, and hell even peanuts, in extreme cases people can have an adverse reaction. What if the woman was at a professional hairdresser, and this happened. Would the stylist be liable? It’s not like they knew this would happen. She wasn’t wearing a Med Alert bracelet saying, allergic to red #5 or anything of the sort.
If the woman had tried on a sweater and died, would the family sue the manufacturer like Polo or Gap, or even the cotton industry? No, because shit happens. It’s too bad she had such an anaphylactic reaction.
On the flip side: if the woman was on a bike, and was hit by a car, I can see the driver of said car being sued. The driver was in control, and was liable. But if they were to sue the car manufacturer, and were to insinuate that the manufacturer was liable… yeah, it just doesn’t flow.
This is what the economic climate has driven us to. We are now a law suit happy nation.
Meanwhile, my lawsuit versus stupid people is till hung up in the courts…
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The CTA… another gripe I have.
The big deal right now is that the city is racing to make itself ready to be a serious contender for the 2016 Olympics. Yeah we are in the two four (I believe against Rio, Tokoyo and someone else), and seriously one of the top two in contention.
Yet the public transit system will continue to be our undoing.
Take my stop, Thorndale… one more good thunderstorm and it looks like the ceiling of the vestibule may collapse:
How safe does THIS look to you? Especially around the lights?
Yeah, makes me want to ride the train as well. Never mind the third rail, look out for the pools of water formed from the water dripping from the electrical system…
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Finally, proof that crack is indeed whack, as Whitney so proclaims. This one is courtesy of Tobin after some chicken and beer, Pride weekend…
Oh come on, don’t be a prude. If they can show Britney’s va jay jay online…
Promoted!
I’ve been busy, and it’s finally paid off.
After two months of hard work, I was offered the store manager position for my company’s Evanston location. It’s a sweet little store and a great starting point for me. Of course I accepted!
I start next Monday in manager capacity, although I’ve been working there now and then for the past week. I had to revamp next week’s schedule so I was added in, although the current manager, who has chosen to step down, is unsure of where he will be. For coverage sake, I’m kind of counting on him being there in some capacity, but if not I’ll be making some phone calls to see if I can get some help. In the meantime, i’ve already set up 4 interviews for new staff for next week.
The commute is a piece of cake. Every time I’ve worked up there, I’ve been able to make it to work in about 30 minutes, door to door. It’s surprising to me, and I’m not counting on CTA reliability always… and I cannot believe I just used ‘CTA’ and ‘reliability’ in relationship to one another.
And my schedule… that’s the only downer. Managers are expected to work 45 hours at a minimum. That pretty much means 5 days of open to close at the store each week. I do hate long days, but I need at least a day and a half off each week to function correctly, so I think I can handle it.
I just can’t wait for the paycheck to pump up. Working for so little the past few weeks has hurt, and while we’ve managed at home, it’s been tight for Rick and I. It doesn’t help that for the second paycheck in a row I’m missing hours!
Anywho, off to the office…
Like, OMG, how annoying!
I swear I’ve never been so close to committing homicide as I was Thursday evening on the CTA.
First off, Rick and I enjoyed part two of his birthday gift by taking in Avenue Q down at the Cadillac Palace, and wow it was so un-PC, I LOVED it! I mean, how many places can one get away with singing that ‘everyone is little bit racist’ or that “the internet is for porn’ and make it funny? I didn’t know whether to laugh or be appalled, so I was a bit of both. The most ridiculous part was watching puppets fuck on stage! So irreverant, you must see this show.
Afterwards, our plan was to try and take in a 12:01am showing of Sex and the City. I’ve been dying to see this movie. Go figure, all showings were sold out… at 10pm. So, we proceeded home instead.
After having to navigate the twists and turns that is Chicago transit under construction, we boarded a north bound Red Line, and just our luck, two chatty Cathys sit down behind us. Now, remember when mom always taught you to use your inside voice? Well, these two missed that lesson, because they were yapping up a storm at the top of their lungs from Lake Street all the way north.
Granted, I wouldn’t normally care about people talking on the train. Public place, talk all you want. But this one chick had a voice that could grate Parmesan 10 miles away. Not only that, her and her friend were the most vapid, soul sucking bimbos this side of the Mississippi. Here’s an example, and no, this is not exaggeration:
‘Like, Morgan, I can’t believe, like, she is so sad.’
‘I know, like, wow, she totally screwed that up.’
‘But you so cannot tell anyone. Like, she’s not like my real good friend, but I am the only one who knows. And a couple of guys know. So you can’t tell anyone.’
‘Lame, ok.’
‘Whateve. And my environmental science class blows.’
‘eww, no fuckin’ way!’
‘So sucks’
‘Like, so, err, it’s so, umm, omygod, like ridiculous that, oh wow, too bad there weren’t animals, that would of been so, like, awesome.’
Really, I can’t even make this up.
And this went on for 20 minutes. God, Rick and I wanted to move so badly, but the train was jammed with theater goers and Cubs fans (and they didn’t look happy either), so we sat trapped, gritting our teeth and clenching our fists. I now know the sensation of having nails driven under my fingernails, because this was it. I wanted to turn around and just shove my fist down the one girl’s throat so we could have at least a moment of silence, but I held back.
Then I just lost it, and started to laugh hysterically at the insanity of their incoherent rambles. The future of America, right behind us, needing some serious hooked on Phonics help. The worst part was they go to Northwestern in Evanston. Lord knows who they had to suck off to get there. It was absurd, annoying, and completely maddening all at once, and even though Rick looked horrified at my laughter, I knew it had to burst out somehow so the bloodshed would be minimal.
It was finally around Belmont that we saw an open seat 10 feet away and bolted for the silence. As we got up, I had to mumble under my breathe, but clearly, loud enough for them to hear, a venomous ‘Stupid fucking vapid twits.’ I know they heard me, because as we sat down, both girls were glaring in our general direction. I didn’t give a shit. Rick and I then spent the next few minutes laughing at their clear lack of social… anything.
What I really wanted to do, though, was take a picture of them so I could post here for all to see. I’m kicking myself for not doing it.
As we left the train and walked home, Rick’s closing comment was the best:’One thing I learned in life as I did so much traveling. Never talk about work, about school, or about other people in public. You never know who may be listening and how you may sound to them.’
I couldn’t agree more.
The CTA/Crazy Person Road Show
The #22 Clark bus is easily one of my least favorite bus lines with a schedule that’s about as regular as a constipated dog and just as miserable, but when heading down to Ginger’s Ale House for a soccer match it’s cheaper than a cab. So this past Tuesday afternoon I stood in the sleet and blustery cold waiting for my ride like the April fool I am, looking forward to joining Alan for the Man United match against Roma.
The bus arrives typically packed, and I decide to make my way to an opening towards the back. The first thing I notice in route is a middle aged woman, dressed in complete mismatching clothing, gnawing on a breadstick or pretzel or something equally chewy, with a mound of boxes piled higher than a standing person on the seat next to her. It’s an obnoxious amount of crap, stuffed in white Hefty bags and a milk crate or two, covered in a tattered red tarp. To assume she’s a transient or homeless person is of course presumptuous of me, and to insinuate that only someone with serious mental issues would dare bring that much crap onto the public transit with them is borderline profiling, but come on. Would any rational human being dare board a bus in mid day, or for that matter, any time of day with what could most likely be half of their worldly goods? Yeah, didn’t think so. I was perturbed at the bus driver for allowing this woman to take the time to board and de-board the bus with all of this crap, and then take up more than one seat, effectively blocking the ability for a handicapped person to be able to board and sit. It was obnoxious.
It reminded me of a much more grevious offense I witnessed on the #147 bus about two months back. I boarded, and where there was supposed to be the senior reserved seating/ handicap spot was the little old woman who lived in the alley… with her entire life’s goods with her. And I’m talking about a mound of crates, boxes and laundry bags buried under (again!) a tattered red tarp (I actually can’t recall if this lady is actually the same person with less stuff on from Clark bus, but it wouldn’t surprise me one bit). The junk took up at least three seats, which shocked the hell out of me that the driver would even remotely permit such a thing.
What drove me to the brink was that when we approached Berwyn, the lady proceeded to leave the bus, and had to unload all of her possessions as well. Mind you, I was on my way to work at the time, so I was a bit antsy to get moving. I took her, and I’m not exaggerating, 10 minutes to unload her junk from the bus. 10 minutes. and the driver barely even blinked at the inconvenience she was causing to the rest of us. Hell, another 147 passed us while we sat and waited. I was, how do you say, livid.
The ultimate fault of these incidents lies with the CTA driver who allowed such ridiculousness to occur. These drivers are paid, and quite well contrary to what some may think, to ensure their bus gets from A to B in a timely and scheduled manner, and the passengers riding on it arrive safely and without great inconvenience. Especially since we pay $2.25 a ride, right?
But time and again I have witnessed such idiocracy as, say, the bus driver who allowed a bicyclist onto the 147… with his bike. And I don’t mean with the bike on the rack at the front, I mean in the middle of the aisle. Hello! The bus driver who allowed this then conveniently switches with another bus driver at Foster Avenue, and as the bus starts onto Lake Shore the back door alarm is buzzing wildly. The bike ended up causing the back door to jam open and break, and forced the driver to pull over on Drive, and of course everyone on the bus then had to exit the bus, walk on LSD at 10am in the morning in traffic, to board a new bus. That bicyclist was not very popular with the rest of us, let me tell you. I was thisclose to beating the shit out of him, especially since I am a bicyclist myself, and WE KNOW BETTER!
The scariest moment I ever had on the bus was a Wednesday about 2 weeks ago, as I took the #151 down to Big Chicks for Euchre. These two ghetto as idiots barge onto the bus screaming and throwing attitude at each other, supposedly because one guy cut in front of the other boarding the bus. Okay, this pisses me off as well, and I’ve gotten into my verbal sparring with an asshole or two who have done that to me as well. Granted it’s not like their is a line to get on the bus, but to be pushed aside as you try to board, well that’s just asinine. However, this argument was heated and escalated to the point that the guy at the front of the bus shouted to the other, ‘what, you gonna call da police? Fine, do it fucka, I’ll show you mine then,’ and at this proceeded to REACH INTO HIS COAT.
The first thing that flashed into my head was, oh fuck, I’m going to be on the front page of tomorrow’s paper: Edgewater man and 9 others killed in CTA shootout. At that moment, me and the other passengers suddenly feared for our lives, scrambled for the exit faster than you can say run, and never looked back.
Again, I ask, where in the hell was the driver during all of this, hmm? Yeah, taking a coffee break probably.
Not everyone of my CTA rides are this scary. More so, I end up trapped near the crazy people and simply annoyed; like the wild/tangled hair bespectacled schizo bitch who rides the Broadway bus, whom I have had the displeasure of riding within a few seats of twice this week. Like many schizophrenics who don’t take their meds, she rants and raves to the unseen, arguing and swearing up a storm. Sometimes I just want to shove a towel in her mouth, but I’m afraid she may try to kill me. Rick was riding to the paint store with me when she boarded for my most recent encounter, and finally got to see up close this particular specimen I’ve told him about in the past. It only took 10 minutes and two blocks from our stop for him to suddenly push me towards the exit. ‘If I had to ride one more block with crazy, I would have snapped,’ he commented as the bus rolled away. I could only smile.
But back to the Clark bus on Tuesday, and our wonderful transient with the red tarp. The woman stared blankly forward as the bus churned it’s way down North Clark, until we arrived at Lawrence Avenue. Here, she proceeded to disembark with all of her goods, a process that mercifully took only two minutes. I could only gawk at the absurdity of it all. I wasn’t overly annoyed, as it didn’t cut extraordinarily into my commute time, and she wasn’t in my way at all. I manged to get to the match only a few minutes late, and Alan and I got to enjoy United’s 2-0 victory over Roma. Overall, it was a lucky day today.
Then again, who knows what the next CTA episode may bring.
Rants of The Misanthrope and other musings 