Alicia's CTA story

"In a city increasingly characterized by class and ethnic distinctions, the trip in by train was arguably the one significant personal experience that more Chicagoans had in common than any other." – Carl Smith. Professor of English and American Studies and professor of history at Northwestern University Common-Place, Chicago

The Illustration Friday topic was “phobia” and what popped into my head was the basic human phobia of other human beings different or “foreign” to them; Xenophobia. Shortly afterwards my daughter emailed me this little essay:

I got onto the last car of the train (always a mistake) and since it was completely packed ended up standing in the car. Which is fine blah blah happens all the time. Weird muscley hooded guy stared at me. Not unusual (I'm super hot, I'll remind you). Later, the crowd has thinned out a very little bit and drunken-seeming guy stumbles onto train and stands next to me. Fine. Crowd thins out more, I get a seat next to late-90s man. Cool. Somebody stinks. Standard. Middle aged black guy with 80s hair sits down on the other side of me. Whatever. Seemingly drunk guy starts telling everyone on the train he is "all drugged up" because he just got out of the hospital and "somebody stabbed me!" THE FUN BEGINS!

80s hair: Where were you [when you got stabbed]?
Stabee: uptown.
80s hair: mm.

time passes. Stabee strikes up a conversation with man sitting near him, repeating same information he has already given the whole car: he was stabbed, he is drugged up, he just got out of the hospital, etc etc. A girl gets up and Stabbe sits next to the man, continues to discuss his woes.

Later I accidentally make eye contact with Stabee, and he asks me if I'm ok.
Me: Yeah... I'm fine.
Stabee: You don't gotta be afraid!
Me: Afraid of what? You? Psh.
80s Hair: AHAHAHA... that was funny!
Stabee: You ain't gotta be afraid of me.
Me: I'm really not.
80s Hair: Haha!
Stabee: Bein' afraid's how I got stabbed! When you afraid, stuff happens.
Me: Very true.

time passes.

80s hair: I really like those... those new converse, what are they, sewn up inside?
Me: Yeah, they're laceless, so they're just sewn together and the tongue is elastic-y.
80s hair: I like those! They're very cool, very cool, very very cool.
Me: Thank you!
80s hair: Mmmhmm. I remember when I got my first pair of converse, I was bought 11 years old.
Stabee: Hehe, we're talkin' YEARS back now eh!
80s hair: Mmhm. Yeah, I remember that first pair of converse *looks wistful*.
Me: What color were they?
80s hair: Red.
Stabee: Mine were white!
Me: I've got a pair of white ones.
Stabee smiles.

Then they both got off and I was kind of sad. Luckily, a woman got on right after them, sat next to me, and promptly started talking to herself/anyone who would listen about her phone needing to be charged, her missing wallet, and how she's all shook up because her boyfriend tried to kill her last week and she had him arrested, only to find out that he had been booked for attempted murder before.

The next stop was mine, so as I got up I recommended she stay away from her ex-boyfriend.

"Oh, honey I don't need men anymore. I'm a free woman! I'm gonna find me a rich guy. I'm dating my dentist, have been for a while. An older rich man, that's what I like."

(the photos are both taken by Alicia. the train pic is from her bedroom window. she lives in chicago and rides the CTA every day.)