Entry tags:
Writer's Block: On the Bus
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When I was an undergrad, I commuted to DePaul University in Lincoln Park. I used to take the blue line into downtown Chicago and then transferred to the red line at Washington station. In order to get from the blue line to the red line, I had to walk down a flight a stairs to this tunnel that connected the two lines. One day, I was coming home from school and, as I was walking down the tunnel along with other passengers from the red line, I heard a guy in a deep voice say, "Welcome to the underground!" He must have repeated it five or six times.
"Welcome to the underground!"
(pause)
"Welcome to the underground!"
(pause)
"Welcome to the underground!"
By that point, I was used to seeing characters muttering to themselves on the train. They were usually pretty harmless, unlike the one guy I saw hit an older lady sitting in front of me upside the head for the necklace she was wearing. I didn't see what the guy hit her with as I had my nose buried in a book, but I later I saw that he had drawn blood and it was dripping in a stream down her neck. Asshole!
Anyhow, what I should have done was to look back, find out who was doing that, and made sure that I got on a different train car. But no, I didn't do any of those things. I figured that there were a lot of people in the tunnel and the chances of getting on the same L car as him were slim. He also sounded like he was pretty far back so finding out who it was would have been difficult anyway. So, I got on the train and sat in a seat at the far end of one of the cars. It turns out that the guy got on that same car and had sat in the seat in front of me. At first, he acted normally so I had no idea it was him. Then, all of a sudden, he turned around and started singing to me! (Later, I found out that the song he was singing was a Vietnam-era protest song. I don't remember what it was anymore though). How embarrassing! Luckily, I had a book in my hands so I ignored him and pretended that I was concentrating *really hard* on something in that book. A few stations pass, and all of a sudden, he gets up and stands by the door. Then, he sees a tic tac on the ground. He picks it up, licks it, holds it over his head, licks it again, holds it over his head, and then eats it. Eeeew!! As we were pulling up to a station, he kind of punched at the doors a bit until they opened and he got off. After he was gone, I breathed a sigh of relief. And from that day on, whenever I tell that story, I refer to the guy in question as "The Tic Tac Man."
When I was an undergrad, I commuted to DePaul University in Lincoln Park. I used to take the blue line into downtown Chicago and then transferred to the red line at Washington station. In order to get from the blue line to the red line, I had to walk down a flight a stairs to this tunnel that connected the two lines. One day, I was coming home from school and, as I was walking down the tunnel along with other passengers from the red line, I heard a guy in a deep voice say, "Welcome to the underground!" He must have repeated it five or six times.
"Welcome to the underground!"
(pause)
"Welcome to the underground!"
(pause)
"Welcome to the underground!"
By that point, I was used to seeing characters muttering to themselves on the train. They were usually pretty harmless, unlike the one guy I saw hit an older lady sitting in front of me upside the head for the necklace she was wearing. I didn't see what the guy hit her with as I had my nose buried in a book, but I later I saw that he had drawn blood and it was dripping in a stream down her neck. Asshole!
Anyhow, what I should have done was to look back, find out who was doing that, and made sure that I got on a different train car. But no, I didn't do any of those things. I figured that there were a lot of people in the tunnel and the chances of getting on the same L car as him were slim. He also sounded like he was pretty far back so finding out who it was would have been difficult anyway. So, I got on the train and sat in a seat at the far end of one of the cars. It turns out that the guy got on that same car and had sat in the seat in front of me. At first, he acted normally so I had no idea it was him. Then, all of a sudden, he turned around and started singing to me! (Later, I found out that the song he was singing was a Vietnam-era protest song. I don't remember what it was anymore though). How embarrassing! Luckily, I had a book in my hands so I ignored him and pretended that I was concentrating *really hard* on something in that book. A few stations pass, and all of a sudden, he gets up and stands by the door. Then, he sees a tic tac on the ground. He picks it up, licks it, holds it over his head, licks it again, holds it over his head, and then eats it. Eeeew!! As we were pulling up to a station, he kind of punched at the doors a bit until they opened and he got off. After he was gone, I breathed a sigh of relief. And from that day on, whenever I tell that story, I refer to the guy in question as "The Tic Tac Man."