The CTA is like any other public transit service: for a meager but not inconsequential fare you are allowed to ride one of their transports, which, pending your knowledge of the system, may or may not get you where you need to be. I tested in the 99th percentile in the critical "Maps" category on my ITBS, so it usually gets me where I need to be, or to a reasonable proximity thereof. (The one exception: the NY MTA, upon which I rode three stops before realizing I was going the wrong direction. I then spent fifteen minutes getting the drift of the system, and am fairly confident that when I return for the New Years occasion, the results will be much better.)
In order to not convey to any other passengers that you might be happier than they are, and thereby irreparably insult them, the custom is that upon boarding, you are to act droll and downplayed. Personal music players are encouraged. Conversations with any fellow riders, be they friends or strangers, are to be held at a strictly sub-audible level. If you have the misfortune of boarding a unit sufficiently full that there are no empty seats to hoard as your own, you are to make NO contact with the person next to you. Also, the buses/cars may or may not be dirty, may or may not have people selling DVDs in unlabeled cases, and may or may not have people passed out in party hats in them. Although the method of conveyance is convenient and reduces the impact of massive amounts of vehicular traffic in the city, the general rule can be simplified as: please do not feel good about life aboard mass transit.
However, for a couple weeks every year the CTA does a Really Great City Thing which flies in the face of typical mass transit etiquette. The story travels is, briefly, as such:
I finished a too long day of work-on-the-weekend at about 5. Reported to the westbound 55 Garfield bus stop at 55th and Ellis.
Watched three buses pass in the eastbound direction in the 25 minutes I waited for the bus. (This is typical. In order to hit their 'one bus every X minutes' mandate, on a X*N minute long route, they put N buses on the route, and they all show up in the span of 3 minutes. That is, if it's supposed to be every 10 mins, they have three buses show up within 3 minutes of each other every half hour. Averages out to a bus every ten minutes, but you end up waiting 27, 1, or 2 minutes for a bus.) While I was waiting, two not very good things happened: it was rainy and I was therefore getting wet, and a bunch of U of C undergrads showed up and pretentiously talked about comic books and other various political and pop-culture topics. The young people at this school drive me crazy very frequently. I am very glad I went to The State School Everyone Is Talking About Now Because Of How Poorly The New Auburn Coach Did There.
I finally boarded the bus in the appropriate asocial mood, thanks to the wait, the rain, and the pretentiousites.
I was rapidly dropped off at the Green Line, or as Chicago people would call it "The Line White People Shouldn't Ever Ride." My personal career rapings on the Green Line (both given and taken): 0. Likewise incidents witnessed: 0. Riders on the Green Line witnessed: maybe 75. Seems sparsely riden and rape-free enough for this honkey.
Wait twice for a net of fifteen minutes for various 'single track' stoppages.
Get to Adams & Wabash station, where I deboard to transfer to the Brown Line, or as Chicago people call it "The Yuppie Businessperson's Commute to Their Downtown Bank Job Line." Net rapings witnessed (including given and taken): 0. However, number of people seen on this train: roughly 25,076. And, more importantly: number of moderately obese people who don't squeeze up so you can sit next to them or people with bags on a seat, rudely taking a seat they don't need: 2,507.6. Verdict: a honkey-friendly but obnoxious transit choice.
Wait roughly five minutes for the appropriate train to show up.
During this period I was listening to my personal music device and reading a book, so I was completely unawares when a high-energy crowd started to basically jump up and down and clap their hands as the next train approached.
And why?
IT WAS THE OFFICIAL CTA HOLIDAY TRAIN!
YES THAT IS SANTA ON A TRAIN CAR! AND YES THOSE ARE REINDEERS TOO! AND A GUY IN A PARKA!
Every year for a month before Christmas the CTA rolls out a special train. One car isn't actually a car, its a flatbed on which Santa and some Elves ride around the rails (yes, even through the subways). All the cars are decked out with candy cane poles where it's usually buffed aluminum. All the nasty fluorescent white lights inside are switched out for red and green ones. Garland abounds. The outside of the car is covered in winter themed items and christmas lights. Each car has a person dressed like an elf handing out candy canes by the handful- when I asked for just one she said, "It's either a handful or none."
It was amazing to ride the Holiday Train. The mood of the passengers was sufficiently raised, in respect to that on the Green Line, so as to be palpable sitting in my seat by the door. Children were excited, adults were smiling. I took my earbuds out to listen to the seasonal music they had playing.
And it struck me: isn't it funny how this kind of little thing can make everyone so happy? It's pretty great that this simple thing makes all these people who would normally be quasi-miserable, or at least completely walled off, smile at each other and enjoy the ride?
And how would the world look if these kinds of little things happened for more than a scant few weeks a year? I get that part of the joy is the novelty of it, merely thinking of the Christmas season brings a lot of good memories to everyone. But there are other causes for some decorum. What if we used them more fully? There's plenty of awfulness and a lot of problems, but I couldn't help thinking as I got off the train that the slight incremental increase in the moods of everyone who rode or saw the train go by just might, if you played it right, improve the way society works.
But at the very least, I was happy walking home in the miserable rainy slush that night.
1 comment:
Back when I was working my awful cubicle job in insurance capital of the world, Des Moines, on a particularly miserable day, my spirits were raised exponentially by a passing hot air balloon. As stupid as it sounds, it made my day of claims prepping not any more unbearable, but not seem so bad.
Like Denis Leary said, happiness comes in spurts. It's the drag of a cigarette or the bite of a chocolate chip cookie. That's happiness.
If you weren't a brilliant scientist, whose works we'll all someday be reading in the Christian Science Monitor or Maxim, I would recommend you do work in sociology. But you are a brilliant scientist, so it's moot.
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