Inappropriate Response

Tuesday morning on the way to work I was trapped underground for two hours. It was hot, dirty, and dark. You may have heard about it. Mechanical problems on a train in front of ours.

Thankfully I had a seat, a magazine, and cell phone reception. Actually, a number of people on my train car were thankful for my cell phone reception. Most importantly, I thank god that I didn't have to pee.

When they finally told us we could leave the train we had to walk along a narrow walkway about 6 feet above the train tracks - but still underground. It was flithy. And dark. And there was debris on the walkway. And I'm 36 weeks pregnant, which meant that someone carried my backpack for me and less people complained when my back-pack carrying friend insisted that I cut in front of most people standing in line, waiting to get out of the train tunnel. Pregnancy has it's privelages.

We had to climb up a winding, wet, dirty, staircase. Then we had to climb up a ladder and through a hole in the sidewalk that is usually covered by a grate that requires the fire department to open.

So Tuesday morning I got on the bus at say 7:50 or 8:00 and made it through the hole that opened up onto the side walk at 10:15. I got to work by 10:45, after walking the rest of the way there.

Then the president of the CTA blamed the riders for the fact that it took so long to rescue us from a sealed capsule in the middle of the earth. Classy.

At the end of the day a friend and I got home by sharing a cab.

Wednesday morning I got back on the train and surprise, surprise, it was practically empty compared to rush hour standards. How the rest of the usual train riders got to work I do not know, but I should have been with them. I sit down in an aisle seat facing forward, about 3 rows back from a door, in the middle of the train. This guy gets on at the third stop and still, no one is standing in the aisles, there is still lots of room on the train. But this dude walks up to my seat, kneels down next to it, rests his forearm on my chair, wraps his other arm around his knees so that his fingers are almost touching my bare legs (I'm wearing a skirt today, of course) and looks at me. I am completely pissed because I already had to deal with the CTA yesterday and now this? Are you kidding me? Two days in a row of feeling unsafe on the CTA?

I scoot over in my seat away from the kneeling dude, which means I'm totally invading the space of the guy next to me who is just trying to read his book. I apologize, he sees what's going on, says it's ok, and goes back to reading. Apparently I have to handle this one by myself, which doesn't phase me. I'm so angry now I'm pretty sure I could handle anything thrown at me. I look at the kneeling creep and ask him to stand up please and he just looks at me. I ask him again, all stern and scolding like an angry school marm, and he looks at me like he can kneel wherever he wants, but then he gets up and walks away. No one around me gives any indication that they even saw what transpired, but how could they not? I don't turn around to watch him walk away, and don't see him again on the train or the platform, when I get off two stops later. The rest of the ride I'm silently fuming because as angry and mighty as I am I've had enough of feeling threatened on the CTA.

Then that afternoon a guy from the claims department at the CTA called to get my address so they can send me a claim form to get my coat cleaned. They had noticed the dirty pregnant woman climbing up the ladder and on to the sidewalk and stopped long enough to get my name and phone number. They wanted my address too, but since the CTA employee didn't introduce himself or tell me why he wanted my information, I initially refused to give it to him. Seriously, do they think I'm going to give a stranger my address? Anyway, they were more professional on the phone. They also asked if the baby is ok, which he is as far as I can tell. Nice follow through, I guess. But I'm still pissed.

Wednesday evening I take the bus home from work. I remember when I get home that I had told Jett that I would take him for a ride on the bus. So we head back into the beautiful day to give the Chicago Transit Authority one more chance.

We wait at the corner. And wait at the corner. And wait at the corner, and no bus shows up, although about 542 buses pass us going the other way, which drives Jett crazy because he can't understand why we aren't getting on those buses. But those buses don't lead to the park.

We finally walk west to the nearest major cross road and get on a bus there. Jett is so excited. He hops up onto the bus, I pay our fare, and the bus goes one block before Jett starts panicking and wants to get off. He slides off of his seat, still holding my hand, and drags me to the door, making his panic noises the entire time. I don't know why he is so panicked all of a sudden, but I don't blame him. How could I argue with him?

We get off the bus one block later and walk three blocks home in relative peace, shaking the CTA boogey-monsters off our shoulders.

It's a beautiful day. We enjoy the fresh air and the feel of our feet on the sidewalk. When we get home we'll eat dinner and sit on the couch together and watch Sesame Street. We'll brush our teeth and put on pajamas and fall asleep to the glow of nightlights and the sound of the dishwasher.

Tomorrow we'll wake up and we won't go anywhere that isn't in walking distance.