If you see something...

The rest of this phrase is supposed to be "say something."  Unfortunately, as I have learned about the majority of the general public, the phrase should be - "if you see something, awkwardly look the other direction until it goes away."  

Unfortunate, but not far off-base.

Case in point, I was on the CTA Red Line on a recent weekend, and I was quietly seated listening to my iPod - translation:  I was in my own world listening to a variety of Monster Ballads.  I eventually noticed a strange man dressed all in leather - leather shoes, black leather pants and a leather jacket with the tags hanging off.  This man was also wearing red-tinted sunglasses.  Not exactly the uniform of the inconspicuous train rider.  

He silently fidgeted in one seat and then another as we passed from one station to the next.  The train eventually pulled up to the Chicago station. The doors stood open for a few seconds until the familiar ding of "doors closing." It was only at this point that the man walked to the door to exit the train.  It was also at this point that there was an unfortunate young man standing on the train platform waiting to board who got in the leather man's way.  

This act of blocking someone's exit from a train is usually met with an "excuse me" or a simple, silent push-through and exit. However, this day, for whatever reason, the leather man decided to up the ante. He violently and without pause punched the boarding man in the face.  The young man fell to the ground and the leather man kicked him.  

The attacker then calmly walked out of the train, up the stairs and into the crowds on the street.  

Of course, those of us left on the train were shocked.  Some asked the young man if he was OK.  He was.  Some inquired with each other about what had just happened.  However, no one, at least that I saw on my train, reported the incident.  The young man who was attacked was clearly more embarrassed by the situation than angered.  He simply went and sat down with his friend like nothing had happened.  

No one called the train operator on those ever-present buttons.  No brave soul followed the attacker up the stairs (either for payback or to facilitate a capture).  No one phoned 3-1-1, as constantly instructed by signs on the CTA.  The incident just happened and faded into the memories of those who witnessed it - stored away as a cautionary tale or an exciting story to parlay at dinner that night.

Truth be told, the random act of violence ended up causing about as much panic or reaction as if someone had dropped their soda on the train, and it had exploded.

And, I would be willing to bet if that happened there would be more than a few angry passengers looking to have their dry cleaning bills paid.  Especially if it were orange soda. Man, that stuff stains.

  

Lessons Learned

Well, that didn't last long.  Luckily no one really bet on this little wager.  

I got entranced by the latest season of American Idol.  See, there was this blind guy who auditioned.  It was inspirational. I promise.   Ok, I really can't defend this.  I am embarrassed even writing about it . 

So, the not watching TV thing is not happening. i am making sure that i limit my tv time, so i am not chained to the box for several hours at a time watching mindless tv during my semester break.

 

This is like my crusade to kick my coffee habit every few months...it doesn't last long.  after a bit, i figure that some habits are ok to keep going.  i'm not shooting heroine here.  

Somebody get Charles Dickens on the phone...

After traveling to Paducah twice (twice) in November via an annoying train ride, I was really hoping that the final train ride of 2008 would be tolerable.  Like the rest of 2008, this experience would be frustrating and stressful, but it would also have a slight shimmer of hope.

I worked the morning of December 22 at my holiday job, and then I hurried down to Union Station in time for the obligatory hour before my train was scheduled to leave. I was not greeted by a mundane wait in the seating area of Amtrak.  I was greeted by hundreds of angry Amtrak ticket holders.

Due to freezing Chicago temperatures, the trains were delayed up to 24 hours. The tracks were freezing. The trains were running out of food, and their toilets were freezing solid. My train was delayed indefinitely at the time I arrived at Union Station.  I settled in for the long wait in the chilly waiting area. People were huddled close together -- partly out of preserving body warmth, mostly out of the severe overcrowding at the station.  Due to the close proximity and the long waiting time, the people waiting around me slowly began to chit-chat.

I am usually not a fan of idle chit-chat.  In fact, I avoid it at all cost.  However, the people around me quickly became the most entertaining things in that area, so I relented and began to talk.  One man, named Scott, had simply traveled to Chicago that day to get his computer fixed. A woman, Stacey, was traveling home for the holidays.  Stacey had already gotten so frustrated with the wait that she had purchased a bottle of wine and was happily downing it when we began to speak. I liked her immediately.

The other people I met were a student from Eastern Europe, a mom and her young son, named Demetri. All of these people were linked with me for these few hours by our frustration.  We all just wanted to get home to whoever was waiting for us with open arms and presents.  

As the hours ticked by, the Amtrak workers had little to report beyond more delays. The trash cans were overflowing. The toilets were plugged. We were all trapped in our own quest for survival.

The best thing people could do was to try to be friendly and helpful to those around them.

The student from Eastern Europe didn't get off to a very good start. She dropped her traveling case on my toe. She apologized a few minutes later when she realized her case was on the floor. I accepted, then proceeded to swear a lot under my breath at the pain. She turned a corner when she became the default babysitter of the young boy Demetri while his mother went to get food.  When the mother came back, the student went for food.

The mother gave all of us bottled water. Gold star achieved.  Stacey offered to share a cab with me if our train was cancelled.  Very nice.

Scott, the day traveler with computer problems, went for popcorn, which he shared with all of us.  Another act of stress-induced kindness.

Scott seemed like a very nice guy.  An older man, probably in his 60s, with graying hair and a very tall stature.  He had more of a grandfather demeanor than a creepy one. Always a positive.

This grandfather demeanor prompted the mother to let him take her son to the bathroom.  While they were gone, she turned to Stacey and myself and stated how she was wary to send her son to the bathroom with a stranger.  However, since Scott was with obviously traveling with Stacey, he must be ok.

Stacey and I looked at each other and paused for a moment.  We broke the news to her.

Scott was not with Stacey.  We had just met him. As the mother began to breath heavily, we tried to assure her that he seemed like a nice man. 

Her face turned a terrifying shade of amber alert.  The minutes slowly ticked by until Scott returned with the young boy.  The kid appeared OK. No visible bleeding or trauma.  

Another good deed apparently accomplished -- that is, until the young boy's inexplicable fear of trains turns out to be from the uncovered memories of being abused in an Amtrak bathroom.  Hopefully not.

When I finally boarded my train about five hours after I was supposed to, I sat back and thought about all of these people helping each other during this time of hoping, wishing and waiting. I will not say that this was a full-fledged Christmas movie, but it did smell a little bit like Christmas spirit.

We could have ignored each other.  We could have yelled at each other.  I could have stayed in a corner watching my DVD of the third season of the X-Files.  But, we did not stay in our own private bubbles.  We helped each other.  We were kind to strangers.  As the toilets overflowed, we let our hearts overflow a little, too.  

And that is really what Christmas is all about.  With all the stuff life throws at you, Christmas helps you survive the crap.