Chicago Transit Annoyance

I am often asked what it is like living in a big city. People who have never lived somewhere as big as Chicago ask me the oddest questions about it. “Have you seen Oprah?” people often asked when I first moved. No, I have not seen Oprah. She doesn’t tend to wander the city, and as far as I know, does not host open visiting hours. “Where are my Cubs tickets?” asked an uncle. I don’t have any. As it turns out, they don’t hand out free Cubs tickets to all Chicago residents. “Do you have doctors and dentists there?” someone asked me once. (Really?) Yes, we have doctors and dentists. “How do you get to appointments?” The same way I get everywhere else, of course.

Public transportation.

Now we’re talking about something that is different about living in a big city. By and large, getting everywhere on foot and on public transportation is the biggest difference between my day-to-day life in Chicago and my former lives in Kalamazoo and Saginaw.  I don’t want to imply that everyone who lives in big cities takes public transportation. I don’t think all be cities have great systems, and even in Chicago where the system is pretty comprehensive, a lot of people avoid it. I, however, do not own a car, so for the most part I take public transportation wherever I’m going.

Like most things, there are benefits and costs. I hate driving in traffic and I especially hate circling for parking, so I like that I don’t have to deal with those things. I like that I’m doing something earth-friendly. I like that I have time to read when I’m on my way to and from work. It’s a nice transition into and out of the workday.

On the other hand, there are many annoyances. Elbowing your way into and out of a crowded bus is never fun. Whenever it rains, you can pretty much guarantee you’ll be waiting for the bus just long enough to get soaked. The amount of time it takes to get most places is astronomical compared to the time it takes to drive. Recently a friend sprung for a cab to a nearby movie theater, and when we stepped into the theater 10 minutes after leaving my apartment, it felt like a miracle.

There are two categories of public transit happenings that drive me the battiest, though. I call them the rude things and the gross things.

The rude things relate to dealing with people who treat public transit as if it were their own private transit. I know using buses and trains can be new and a bit scary at first, so I try to forgive tourists for doing things that I find annoying. But it’s not just tourists. I have found that the worst offenders for doing rude things are the daily commuters.

Dear commuters standing at the bus stop: We all know that there’s a good 25-foot span where the bus door may end up. The people who happen to be standing there are the people who get to get on the bus first. You do not get to edge your way in front of me if I happen to end up closer – especially not if my only reason for pausing is to allow the elderly or disabled person to board. The sooner you get on, the more likely you are to get a seat. We all know that. Shoving your way to the front of the line doesn’t make you clever. It makes you a jerk. Like the rest of us, you’ll just have to play your cards where the bus driver’s braking distance makes them fall.

Dear commuters who are right next to the door and don’t step back when more people want to get on: Step back. Or if you really can’t step back, then pass a message back for the people behind you to step back. It’s a rare case when there is not enough room for two or three more people. There is room. I can see it. Stop acting as if taking two steps back and being two inches closer to the people around you is more of an inconvenience than me having to wait for the next bus. I’m trying to get to work, same as you.

Dear commuter who puts her bag on the seat next to her and then pretends not to notice me as I walk up: No, using this tactic won’t prevent me from asking you to move your bag. I will ask you to move your bag. You are entitled to one seat. Not two. If you don’t like the idea of a stranger sitting next to you, take a cab.

Wait your turn. Make room for others. These are just rules of basic courtesy. It blows my mind how many commuters ignore them.

I will give commuters one thing, though: They don’t do very many gross things. I’m more likely to see gross things on the weekends, and mostly on trains rather than buses.

Dear transit rider who spread chapstick on the train pole: Seriously? WHY?! I had it on both hands before I realized what it was, and then it was on my coat, my bag, and God knows where else. It was really disgusting. Don’t ever do that again.

Dear transit rider who just opened a package containing a giant pickle along with a pool of pickle juice: If you must eat on the train (which is against CTA regulations and subject to a fine), can you pick something other than a giant pickle? The train car is going to smell like pickle mixed with all the other fun smells of the train. Oh good. Now you just handed it to your 8-year-old kid. AND THEN GAVE HIM PERMISSION TO POUR THE PICKLE JUICE OUT ON THE FLOOR. That’s just irresponsible.

Gross.

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, let me also point out that public transit is also the place I’ve seen and heard more random acts of kindness than anywhere else.

I saw man who asked the woman who practically fainted into her seat whether she needed help when everyone else walked right on by.

I saw a bus driver walk a blind woman across the street and down the block to her destination.

I’ve seen dozens of people give up their seats for pregnant women, elderly people, and small children. I’ve found that the people who stand up are often the ones who seem most deserving of a seat.

The one I’ll never forget is the woman who tapped me on the shoulder and handed me a tissue on a day I was crying. I don’t recall now what had upset me that day, but I thought I was in control when I got on the bus. Then, I just wasn’t in control any more. I was trying to subtly wipe away silent tears and hating that I was in a public place. Then a stranger offered me a tissue without a word, and everything was a little bit better.

No one would have seen me cry if I had been in my own car. But no one would have handed me a tissue, either.

Rude, gross, kind. It all balances out in the end.