yesterday was an interesting commute home. it was tragic for some, and nearly tragic for others. mine was snow filled and slippery, a little cold (but not as bitter as the whole week before had been), and kind of funny. well, really funny at times. it was sort of seinfeldian.
it started when i made my way over to 20 n. clark to see someone about a job thing, and he wasn’t there. oh. okay. so, then, i leave and everyone else in the place is leaving. four late 20-something/early 30-somethings and me. and two had walked out ahead of me and the other guy and the owner’s son. and we walk out, and they’re still standing there. i’m thinking…oh, they waited for their friends.
nope. they were still waiting for an elevator from when they walked out five minutes before. that news was interesting to me, and made my spidey sense tingle. hmm. still waiting for an elevator, you say? and it’s snowing like a motherfucker outside? seems like the combination for a total drama scene. we all sit there for a few seconds….and then i bust out and say…
i’m such a drama queen. i love this kind of stuff. what if we were to get stuck up here on the 29th floor and there were no elevators and we didn’t really know each other? wouldn’t that be interesting!? we’d have to sit around and tell our life stories and that’d be so dramatic. and they laugh, because frankly, it’s ridiculous and funny. especially that i’d even think of such a thing. but they start the jokes about having to eat one of them and i say, don’t you have some food in there? and the one girl says, i have some crackers. and i say…yeah, and you’d steal away and say you were going to the bathroom, but you’d really go and eat your crackers… it’d be great tv. although, you all DO know each *other,* i say.
and then, we wait some more. finally, the one short, redheaded, slightly stout irish looking guy says…fuck this, i’m taking the stairs. and his friends sort of laugh, and remind him how long 29 flights really is. and i laugh, and say well, it’s down, not up. and then we talk about that race they do up the hancock for charity and we dawdle some more. the guy is ready to roll down the flights of stairs and the other woman (besides me) says… but really. it’s a long way down and by the time you get 1/2 way down, we’ll be in an elevator, and just wait. the president’s son laughs and says he’ll be dead before he gets two flights, what with all the cigarettes he smokes.
and then the president’s son says he’s going to go call the security of the building. and so, he goes back inside the office and goes to the reception desk and picks up the phone. he is on the phone, and we see him pick up a pen and paper. the irish guy is like, “oh, man. he has a PEN. i’m out of here.” i’m laughing. i know where he’s going. “that means that they’re passing the buck. they’re telling him to call someone else. he’s going to call and they’re going to say it’s not their problem. i’m walking. i’m going.” lol. this is classic. this is so hilarious. cause we ARE sort of stuck. if not, we all end up walking the 29 flights down, which in itself will be interesting. he pauses briefly, and when the guy doesn’t exit the office and appears to be on the phone again, irish man leaves.
okay. there he goes, down 29 flights. what will *we* do? will we end up joining him? we hear the rumbles of elevators. and then nothing. eventually, the president’s son joins us in the hall, having reached someone saying, “they’re sending an elevator up.” weird. we get in an elevator that’s going up (we’ve pressed both buttons, he remarks), and then we ride it down. a couple seconds after we get down and walk toward the door, irish man appears out of the stairwell. i guess six of one, half-dozen of another. funny.
out into the snowy madness to get to the el to get home. i’m crossing a crosswalk with a walk sign. clear white..no flashing hand, no sketchiness on my part. some dude in the middle lane in an SUV (natch) is not looking my way, but is slowly but surely inching forward in his vehicle. no way. and totally into the crosswalk. i walk…i can barely cross the way it is, and with him rolling, it’s like..dude. you’re going to run me over. i walk, and then give the front of his car a good double slap with the flat of my hand. wake UP, sir.
i walk past daley plaza, where i had walked just the night before. huge freakish christmas tree with oversized 70s looking ornaments and santa’s house. the fountains are prettily lit and there’s markets to buy things. that’s about when i left that audblog. i get into the subway and onto the el. okay. here we go home.
that’s washington. in the loop. at clark and division (four stops later), i encounter another quirky and hilarious part to what was quickly becoming a clusterfuck of a commute. bitter CTA man. the motorman announces at clark and division: “passengers on the platform… i’d seriously take this into consideration — take a southbound train to the loop and get on at jackson; all these trains are going to be crowded.”
we stop underground, not far from that station, between two stops….between that stop and north & clybourn. we hear the standard canned train announcement — beep beep beep — we are experiencing a delay and we regret this inconvenience. we expect to be moving shortly.
and then the guy comes back on (with this great, bitter, deadpan yet sarcastic voice) : “okay. i’ll be a little more elaborate than that. there was a defective train, and it’s out of the way — well, i hope it’s out of the way… and there’s delays from where i am at to…well, practically all the way to howard st. (there’s laughs/groans) so, it’s delays of 10-20 minutes…well, i’m probably being too generous. you didn’t think there wouldn’t be a delay tonight, did you? but, hopefully they’re moving, and we’ll be moving, although slowly.”
later… “some good news, the train in front of me is moving. slowly, but it’s moving.”
LOL. this guy was awesome. he was out of a fucking skit. so hilarious.
so, it took me quite awhile to get home. but, it wasn’t without some fucked up humor along the way.
the smussyolay 