En Route

Recently, in honor of SUMMERTIME!!!, my hours got changed slightly at work.  Not dramatically—I just come in and leave a half-hour later than usual—but it’s enough to give me an extra half-hour’s sleep, and it required me to learn The Rules of my new commute. 

During the rest of the year, I’ve pretty much had my commute down to a science that involves a healthy combination of reliance on the CTA Tracker and my own experiences with each bus and/or train.  I’ve also gotten to know some people quite well, even though we are strangers.  Seeing them for a few minutes every day is enough for a lifetime.  Know what I mean? 

Here are a few of the characters I’ve gotten to know, and whose faces I doubt I’ll see again until September when my schedule returns to normal:

The Ceremonial Smoker.  Middle-aged woman, slight, with a dark, bobbed haircut.  Every morning we get off the bus together and she makes a beeline for the awning of the Chase Bank, where she lights a cigarette and huffs it down before getting to the train.  I can just imagine her being like, This is MY time, dammit.

The Boy Next Door.  Nicely-dressed young professional.  Muscle Milk drinker.  Totally adorable.  One time this other guy drove by while the Boy Next Door and I were waiting for the bus at 6:30 a.m. and demanded directions to Magnolia Ave.  Boy Next Door said, with the slightest Southern drawl, “Magnol-ya?  Ah don’t know.  Ah apologize.”  My heart died of happiness.

Peanut Butter.  A thirty-something nurse with a Peter Pan haircut who rides a crowded bus eating a peanut butter sandwich on a regular basis.  Kudos on a healthy breakfast, but that early in the morning, in a crowded space, there are few smells more nauseating.

Rat’s Nest.  Older woman, petite, rides the bus to Hyde Park.  She reads books on a wide variety of topics and seems utterly normal except that her hair is always a gigantic mess.  What’s going on?  Does she not brush it?  I don’t know.

Angry Face.  I used to think this guy who rides from Hyde Park to the Loop every afternoon was a musician or something because he likes to gesture emphatically with his hands and face, and I thought he was conducting music in his head.  But now I think that he’s just having a fantasy argument with someone he hates.  Probably one of his coworkers.  I feel bad for Angry Face because I think he hates his job.

The Bear.  My favorite bus driver of all time.  I usually catch him on the way home from Hyde Park.  He’s a big guy with dreadlocks and a drawling voice.  When you say thank you to him, he says, “Uh-huh, watch your step,” really adorably.

Farewell til September, commuter friends.