I took Friday off.
I had been sick the previous couple of days, but had gone to work anyway because so many others had the bug that I couldn't be sure my position would have proper coverage. Thursday night, I went to Mom's house for dinner--yes, I know, I shouldn't have gone near Mom with a cold/flu/what-the-fuck-ever, but I hadn't seen her since Christmas Day and, besides, she works in a drug store; she's much more likely to pass the flu on to me than vice versa.
Getting to Mom's house, however, turned out to be a much greater challenge than anticipated, thanks to the CTA.
There were problems on the Blue Line subway--a "medical emergency" had stopped trains running north and, as far as I could tell, south. (The last time CTA announced a "medical emergency," a train had "made contact" with a passenger.) So I loped back up the steps and onto the street, where I caught a Milwaukee Avenue bus headed north. It wound its way through the West Loop and eventually got me as far as Chicago Avenue, where a couple dozen commuters were already milling about, waiting for a westbound bus and shuffling their feet to keep warm.
I walked east to get away from the throng (and, by virtue of being in motion, to stay somewhat warm) and waited at a stop. And waited. And. Waited. Only one westbound bus came through during my 15 minutes there, and in was so packed that passengers were standing on the bottom step just to get on. In that same amount of time, five buses, all nearly empty, were gliding east. After the fifth one passed, I flagged down a cab and made it to Mom's about half an hour after I ordinarily would have been. I could have gotten there just as fast by walking.
And Mayor Daley wants to have the Olympics here, when the transportation system can't handle an average rush hour? Brilliant.
My adventure with CTA did nothing to make me feel any more well. If fact, I felt worse Friday morning, and my workload at the job was relatively light, so I called in sick, stayed in, watched the snow fall, ate soup and drank the Walgreens equivalent of TheraFlu for the next three days.
Now? I feel so much better. Just in time for the next snowstorm, which will hit around rush hour--right when I'm supposed to head for Mom's house.
Better start walking now.
1 comment:
How could I have been born in January in Chicago? This question I've asked myself many times in the last ten years or so because I intensely dislike winter weather. Just last evening, I remembered something about my childhood that hundreds of hours spent waiting on snow-packed bus stops in frigid weather must have wiped from my active thoughts: I LOVED fall AND winter when I was boy. I was a happy little guy when October blew in with its promise of Halloween. November meant Thanksgiving. December brought the Christmas holidays. And January was my birthday month. February and March gave me snow fights and sledding with my buds, the possibilty of my school closing due to snowfall (seems kids now rarely get snow days!). What happened over the years to change my view of winter? Umm...just grown-up stuff, right? Well, I'm on a mission to bring that kid back so he can help me get through the next winters of my life. And this one.
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