Perspective on Public Transportation

I've been meaning to write this post for a while now. Another plus about the new job is that I'm able to take the Metra train to work instead of sitting in traffic for 45-60+ minutes each way. This is the first job I've had where I was able to take public transportation, and I've discovered it's a double-edged sword for me. I'm an avid people-watcher, but at the same time, people annoy the shit out of me. So at any given moment on the train I can be amused or be drowning in the pungent humanity. For this post I'm going to list my Metra highlights and lowlights (in no particular order) for the last 5 months or so.

Out of the Mouths of Kids: a teenage girl and a boy who I estimate was about 8-9 years old. The girl was recapping the NFL playoff picture at the time and then said she would be watching the Bulls play that night. The boy responded with "pffft. Bulls ain't no good without Michael Jordan." Wha? Unless the kid had severe Webster Syndrome, he wasn't even alive when Jordan was with the Bulls. But he did speak the truth.

I don't know who designed/made the Metra conductor uniforms, but s/he managed to produce the precise alchemical combination of design elements and fabrics to transform even the most slender of Metra conductors into a wide load wagon-draggin' man. (I have yet to see a female Metra conductor on my line. Possibly because society loads enough body-image mental shit on women without having to deal with unflattering Metra uniforms.)

Talkies are my biggest fear on the train. I am at heart a shy person as it is, so I don't much like talking to strangers. Exchanging a comment in a checkout line is fine, conversing with friends of friends at a party is also not a problem. Being trapped on a train or plane with a chatty stranger who exhibits signs of being at least a mild asshole is my idea of epic suck. My dread of the Talkie materialized in spectacular fashion probably about 2 or so months ago.

• Talkie: First Contact. I was knitting a scarf on the way home and noticed the man in front of me avidly perusing some sort of National Rifle Association magazine. Which is his bag and right, but generally NRA fans aren't my kind of people. Whatever, I kept knitting peacefully. Until Mr. NRA emerges as The Talkie. I hear a voice asking how long I've been knitting. Now, Laura assures me that my mistake was to answer politely, but I'm too uncomfortable in situations like that not to answer and hope for a quick resolution of the conversation. So I answered politely and buried my nose further in my knitting hoping that the hint will be taken. It was not. I get more and more questions about my knitting, which leads to the Talkie's proclamation that HE has a hobby that "a lot of liberals don't approve of." Talkie Threat Level is now Screaming Red. He proceeds to tell me about his target shooting and I said "As long as you don't shoot people or puppies, I could not care less". TALKIE DEFLECTOR TIP #1: DO NOT AMUSE THE TALKIE. IT MAKES THEM TALKIER. Thankfully my stop came up relatively shortly after that.
  
• Return of the Talkie. One thing about riding the same line at about the same time every day, you see the same people. Yes I saw the Talkie again. This time I was quite a few rows back of him, but apparently he recognized me all the same. The cars tend to empty out quite a bit by the time the train gets near my stop, so when the car was fairly empty, the Talkie YELLS out some comment to me because I'm sitting so far away. I pretended not to hear and stared out the window. Curse my fuckwit hide for leaving my ipod on the charger and my earphones at home.
• The Talkie Strikes Back. I encountered the Talkie once again, this time getting off the train because we unfortunately get off at the same stop. This time my Talkie senses had not spotted him when I heard behind me "Soooooo, how's the knitting going?" WHUT. Again my sense of polite self-preservation kicked in and I replied before the doors finally opened and I got to flee the Talkie. That was a couple of weeks ago and I haven't seen him since but something deep inside me is always on High Talkie Alert.

Yesterday I decided to take the train downtown for Laura's gradumacation party which was fairly near the Clybourn stop. Everything was probably more noticeable because I was alone, but the train is a) apparently jam-packed on weekends and b) most of that jam is snot-nosed teenagers putting their filthy shoes all over seats that other people will have to sit on. Sigh. At least the party was really fun.

What in fuck is with people running in front of the train? Nothing is that important that you need to risk your life to make a train. Yesterday I got on the train and another lady in the car got thrown off the train by a conductor for running in front of the train. OH SNAP.

Speaking of train infractions, in my time riding the Metra, Wilmette seems to be the most guilty of train infractions requiring a conductor to get on the intercom and issue a hot heaping helping of whupass. I've heard them yell at Wilmette twice now - once for running in front of the train and once for holding the doors open for a passenger trying to make the train. I suspect it's Wilmette acting out its resentment for being Winnetka Lite.

I know the months to come will bring me much more Metra-related amusement and pain so this is a topic I will definitely be revisiting. Until then, toodles.