my first trip on the metra

it was about five months ago when my sister let me know she would be in the chicago suburbs during labor day weekend. a fifteen minute walk plus an hour ride on the train would get me about five minutes away from where she was staying.

i’ve never ridden a train before. okay, lie. i once rode a train in san francisco. i was ten, and my parents did all of the ticket buying and train mounting, ect. this time was all me.

my knowledge of the city is basically none. i know how to read and ride the trains and busses, so i’m good to get places… but once i leave the train or get off the bus, i am usually lost. my sense of direction is terrible. i become completely disoriented and have to collaborate with my phone to figure out where the lake is and whether i want to go towards it or away from it.

regardless, i easily took the train from my apartment for just one stop and had to walk about 4 blocks to the metra station. simple. until i walked two blocks passed (past?) w madison where the train station was supposed to be. okay, turn around. turns out w madison is only signed on one side of the street. i was not amused, but i was also early. no big deal. i decided to double check with a woman in scrubs (my mom wears scrubs sometimes… i bet this woman is like my mom) who was checking herself out in the reflection of a  building (i check out myself in the reflections of buildings… i bet this woman is like me).

“excuse me? do you know where ogilvie station is?” “what the hale do i look like? a damn map?” i gave her sad eyes, but she scoffed at me. she is not like my mother. she is nothing like me.

okay, i shook it off and kept walking. the same building that also served as a mirror had some signs inside. “METRA”. seemed legit. but i was looking for something with “ogilvie station” in script. something romantic. something railroad. oh, there it was. in tiny letters… next to the sign that says “no smoking within 25 feet of building entrance.” i took it anyways and blindly followed a man up an escalator towards more metra signs. i ended up following him towards multiple revolving doors only to realize there was a ticket booth! with a line… i had 15 minutes until my train left. plenty of time.

after waiting for about two minutes, three early-mid twenties men guys ran toward the ticket line. they were displeased with the line. i was displeased that two of them were wearing classic-style crocs. they asked if anyone had a train leaving after 8:35. mine left at 8:40, but no way would i let those croc-wearing dopes cut in front of me and the ten people behind me. apparently i was not alone, because no one even blinked at them. they got in line and continued to heckle people until a woman in front of me finally gave in. they reached to the ticket window and the woman behind it was hardly moved by their eagerness. they spit out some mumbo jumbo about being on a non-profit trip, ect, ect. he told her he loved her. i hate it when people use lines like that.

“i’ll love you forever if you get me a packet of truvia.”

“thank you for sharpening my pencil. i love you.”

saying things like that just depreciate the value of the word love… but more on that topic some other time.

long story short, the guys took their tickets and ran to the revolving door of their choice. we never had to see them again, and we all lived happily ever after. until i sat by what i decided must be the chi-town equivalent of a jersey shore guidette. aka, girls that go into the city for the night and take (what my sister called) the train (of shame) home to whatever suburb they crawled out of.

despite the girls, the rest of the trip was seemingly uneventful. i credit this to my iTunes library.

~

now for a little game i like to call: things heard on the metra 

“yeah, grandma and grandpa don’t really go to that mcdonald’s anymore… they are more going to the ______ one.” “oh, yeah, why?” “because it’s lots closer to where they go shopping and stuff. there’s lots of stores over there. like the kohl’s… and the jewel… and whatever.”

the girls sitting two seats behind me were giggling and projecting their conversation over the entire train. apparently girl #1 was texting a “douche bag” and girl #2 didn’t approve. girl #1 then discussed some recent sexcapades and sextcapades. they decided to go to walmart later that day.

there is a man in the seat across the aisle from me playing a game on his phone. from the rapid movements, i’m guessing candy crush or temple run.

a man behind the man playing games on his phone is resting his head on the seat in front of him (the back of game player’s seat). their heads are three inches from each other. neither seem to care. 

on being single

i have not been single since i was 16 years old. sure, there were a few brief periods of not having a facebook-official boyfriend (the true seal of a relationship), but i was never without a guy to distract me. i think i am most comfortable with a boyfriend. not having one makes me feel like a mother whose last child has just left home for college. who do i make cookies for? who do i send notes in the mail? who do i send “call me when you get home” text messages to? does this sound disgusting yet? because i think i just made myself throw up.

my most recent breakup was due to a few things: different goals, distance, and my lack of independence. i don’t know who i am without a boyfriend, and that scares me. what do i like? what do i like to do? what are my favorite things? do i have a favorite color? okay, yes: it’s purple.

this may seem a bit dramatic, but it’s really terribly accurate. i’ve found myself relating less to carrie and more to charlotte. “our favorite movie is…” “we like this sushi place…” “we didn’t like that book…” “we think kanye is da bomb-ye.” i would lie to my friends about how being in a relationship wasn’t always all it was cracked up to be, but really i was pretty damn happy and comfortable.

now i am learning how to be by myself. not alone, but not with someone else. my focus is on myself. my favorite movies, my favorite restaurants, my favorite books, and my obsession with kanye. does this sound selfish? because it is a little bit, but it is also not at all. i am pretty damn happy right now, but i’m learning to be comfortable. i know what i want and i’m figuring out the rest as i go along. i’m getting lost within myself, which is probably the most loving thing i’ve done for me in a very long time.

but recently, being single has not been easy. it is an awkward thing to explain to people, mostly because i was so happy in my last relationship. i think that a healthy, clean break is difficult for some people to understand. it wasn’t him, it wasn’t me: it was just time. this is the thing that makes me uncomfortable. because i am sad about the breakup, but i am happy to be by myself.

~

“so how is the boy?” well, this is awkward. “we broke up.” there is horror on their faces. i can see it in their eyes. they aren’t sure what to say, and i know i don’t know how to answer. a flurry of recovery statements are made by multiple parties.

“it’s okay, it’s okay.” i tell them, i mean, what else do you say in this situation? “i’ve just decided to join match.com. all i need is to meet a nice dad or something. someone to put me through school.” no one can tell i’m joking, but i’ve got the shovel, and i’m digging the hole, and i can’t shut up. finally i say i’m joking.

“thank god, i was thinking you’re a bit too young for that.”

~

does everyone think i will die single? because just as i’m starting to really fall in love with myself: the things i like, my work, and my school, it seems like everyone else is just terrified i’ll announce the recent adoption of a stray cat or my new hobby of needlepoint (because these are the actions of a single to the nth degree woman, right?). don’t worry, i’m a dog person.

and since when did we start putting so much value on whether someone is in a relationship or not? you’re successful if you have a boyfriend. um, my blog got 100 page views in two hours… doesn’t that at least count as a blind date or something? shouldn’t we put all of that emphasis on things that matter like grades, and work success, and my latest free drink star at starbucks? i used two coupons at ulta yesterday, doesn’t that mean anything to you?

i like being alone. even when i was in a relationship, it was always long distance. i like the distance: it gave me space to drink and draw and write and work and do all of the things i like to do alone. now i am in a short distance relationship with myself and i am doing all of those exact same things, but i have one more thing: pity from the general public.

“you just keep looking. you’ll find someone, probably when you least expect it. when you stop trying, that’s when you’ll meet him. the city is a great place to meet men.”

~

i am falling in love with myself. i highlight all of the things that are great about me; the things that don’t include emphasis on my eligibility. like, i have great legs. they are so great because they allow me to walk around the entire city. i would be so sad without them. and i really love my hair because it always smells good. my smile is so nice and white because i understand the value of good oral hygiene, and i’m terrified of gingivitis. i am extremely flexible because i push myself in my yoga practices. my skin is really clear lately because i’ve been washing it regularly.

none of this is saying that i want to be single forever. i really enjoy the company of others. i like having someone to discuss everything with, but right now i really enjoy that person being me.

accosted

monday morning… a nice holiday for some, but usually not me. most labor days are filled with prepping the swimming pool for the season or prepping myself for school or work (time and a half always pays… literally).

this labor day i was on my way home (to chicago, yee!) from staying with my sister (in da burbs). i took the metra out and back into the city. i walked from the metra station to the blue line. there is a blue line stop not far from my apartment, making the trip extremely convenient. my sense of direction is just fine when i’ve already walked the line.

i should preface all of this by saying, i love public transportation. i loved it when i lived in east lansing. i loved it every time i used it in nyc. i loved it when i used it in chicago. i absolutely love it. i hate driving. i like riding in cars, but i hate driving them. one of the most attractive things about large cities is public transportation. add in a train or subway station, i’m sold. busses are cool, but hopping on a train is b.a. i love running/walking down the stairs, scanning my upass, (i don’t really like) going through the turn style (my bag always gets caught), and waiting for the train. i love the performers on some of the busier platforms, i like looking around for mole people, i like listening to other people’s conversations or trying to read whatever page of the book they’re reading. i just like it.

let me also preface this by saying that i like to smile. i like to smile at people and engage them in random conversation. i do it all the time. i flirt with babies and old men and young men and basically anyone who will flirt back.

so when a homeless man says hello to me, i say hello back. i rarely have cash, so i never give any out to those who ask. a quarter is precious to me. that is ¼ of a load of laundry. i can’t afford to give those away, so i don’t. i usually just tell them to have a great day and keep moving.

but this homeless man was different. resilient. aggressive. terrifying. i was turning the corner of a staircase when i saw him. he was a few steps in front of me, and when he saw me he stopped walking until i caught up with him. he forced me to shake his hand. i had headphones in, so i popped one out. i was uncomfortable, but not threatened. we were standing on the stairs. he asked me for money. i told him i had none. he said, “don’t be nervous.” that made me nervous. i was sweaty because it was hot, and i hadn’t showered in days. he asked me for a quarter. i told him i didn’t have any cash. “SHUT UP” his hand was a half inch from my face; i was cross-eyed looking at it. he pulled his hand back and threw it at my face. he had hit my cheek and ran down the rest of the stairs.

i slowly walked down the stairs, hoping to see more people. there was a large support (basically a wall) instead of a platform. the amount of space on either side was not enough for me to feel comfortable walking on with this man still near me. i stood at the bottom of the stairs waiting for his next move. he stared back at me from the right side of the wall. i just stood there. he started to come towards me again. 

“don’t be nervous.” i was nervous. i heard him mumble: “are you gonna call the police?” i was holding my phone, but the idea didn't occur to me until he proposed it. “excuse me?” i said. “STOP. STOP TALKING AT ME SO LOUD.” …mmm, no. i wanted people to hear me. “okay, okay.” i said. “are you goin’ ta forest park?” “no, i’m not.” “STOP. you stop talking so loud at me.” 

i heard steps behind me. i was hoping for another student, or maybe a mom with a child, or maybe an attractive business man that does business. OR another homeless person… just my luck. i could see these men (who were most likely unaffiliated) ganging up on me and throwing me on the third rail. i was terrified. my heart was beating and i was really sweating. but my attacker scampered off and i could no longer see him. a train passed me and stopped pretty far away, but i ran to it and jumped on. i didn’t care where it was going; i just wanted to be on it. i found out at the next stop that i was, in fact, going the wrong way. luckily the train i needed was right across the platform. i was home in six minutes.

turns out i did need to go to forest park.

xoxo + navigation woes

first of all, i would like to thank everyone for the love and support i have received about this blog! i am incredibly humbled by all of your kind words. you make me feel prettay awesome.

since moving to chicago, i have done lots of things. the most frequent of those things is walk. i walk, and walk, and walk, and walk. and just when i think i might have some time to sit down and cool off (it has been hot and humid here... even the breezes soak you with moisture), you end up needing to walk again. i thought i was ready for public transportation (and i am... i was basically made for trains and busses), but i was not ready for all the walking. i need new shoes.

my first days here have been busy and exciting. and not much of the busyness or excitement has pertained to school, which is nice. 

thursday i met some friends with the intention of going out for dinner. i had to pick up my upass, the card gives me access to the train and busses, but after that we found ourselves in a coffee shop planning our next move. 

i'd heard about chicago diner originally about a year and a half ago when i was still enduring life as a vegan. i think people could see life leaving my body slowly, so everyone was always giving me suggestions of where to eat, what to eat, and reminding me how to use a fork. after hearing about the diner a second time from a friend recently, i knew i had to make eating there a priority.

i'm terrible with directions. i can get myself to and from my bathroom at home, but other than that i have difficulties. left, right, up, down. i just don't get it. but luckily one of my friends is great with them! he can lick his finger, stick it in the air, and lead us anywhere. we'll get off the train, and he just starts walking to wherever we're going. we always get there. 

so when googs maps told me that the diner was only a five minute walk from where we were, i was happy. i asked a woman on the street if she could point us in the right direction. she had no idea what chicago diner even was. idiot. how could she not know about delicious vegan samwiches and stuff only  five minutes away?! probably because it wasn't five minutes away. we ended up walking for about 35 minutes into boystown, where there really are lots of boys.

we finally arrived. the three of us ordered the exact same thing and nearly licked our plates clean. there was a founders brewing sign on the wall near the bathroom that i ended up visiting like, four times. it's reassuring to know that just because you live in a different state doesn't mean that your bladder is now able to hold more than a glass of water. our trip home was uneventful (i did not navigate), and i passed out pretty soon after i got home.