Putting the “Brown” in the CTA’s “Brown Line”
God I love the Chicago Transit Authority. Not just because they make my commute to work more bearable with their shiny silver El trains. Not because it’s fairly inexpensive. No, I love the CTA because it’s like a box of spoiled chocolates. You never know which one you’re going to get, but you DO know that it’s going to be rancid.
Here’s a perfect example. A few weeks ago, I get onto a Brown Line car behind some guy whose probably in his late 20’s, early 30’s. He makes a beeline for the only open seats available – in the little booth-like section at the front of the car. Not all CTA cars have these 2-seater boothy things. If a car does have one, it’s either at the front or at the rear, depends on which way the train is traveling. Whatever. Usually, when a car has one of these unoccupied booths, it’s the first seat taken by a passenger. The second seat is then usually taken later on when the other seats are gone. This is because the booth is like having your own little private compartment, and if someone is already sitting in one of the two seats, you feel kind of weird sitting next to them if other seats are available elsewhere. It feels like you’ve intruded on someone’s little private suite.
On this particular morning, those two seats were mysteriously vacant. The train car was full, but no one was sitting in those seats. The guy in front of me was probably as surprised as I was that they were available. We both thought we had just won the El lottery.
As we were both making a beeline to the penthouse suite, the dude in front of me came to a complete halt at the narrow doorway that separates the booth from the rest of the car. Since my momentum was lunging me forward, I quickly slipped around him just before slamming into him, and sat down on the first seat, closest to the doorway. As I was sitting, two things went through my mind.
1. Why did the guy in front of me come to such a sudden stop and not continue to one of the coveted seats?
2. Why wasn’t anyone else sitting in these seats?
Now, having lived in Chicago for many years, I’ve developed the kind of urban sixth sense that everyone in a big city tends to develop. That sense of how to drive at high speeds through bumper to bumper traffic, which corner burrito stands to avoid, and how not to make eye contact with the crazy ranting guy on the El lest you be his next target of conversation. I knew, as I was sitting down that something was not as it seemed. My mom always told me that if something is too good to be true, it always is.
With all this going on in my head, I was able to only sit on the far edge of the seat, knowing deep inside my soul that it was probably best to not fully engage my new found seat.
Then I smelled the urine. It was soon after that, perhaps 3 ms or so, that I then smelled the feces.
To be continued….