When I first moved to Chicago several years ago, I loved riding the "El". It made me feel urban, young, chic, streetwise, and cool. I didn't even mind when it was crowded. I reveled in being part of the masses of humanity taking the train "to the Loop" to work. It was gritty, loud, crowded, and fun. I liked seeing the tops of two flats and the back porches of condo buildings whizzing as I rode to work.
But somewhere along the line I became disillusioned. The crowds started annoying me. I noticed I no longer liked strangers bumping up against me or pushing me aside as they tried to squeeze into a too-full train car. Then I had a job in the NBC Tower, which was several blocks from the El station. It was a difficult time in my life. I was in the process of trying to transition from working in the Christian publishing ghetto to something different -- I wasn't sure what -- and I was taking fiction writing classes. I was temping for a company in the NBC building, which turned into a full time job. But a job I hated. It was a job where my skills weren't being used, where I didn't fit in, and where I felt like I was spinning my wheels. In the winter, the walk from the El station to the NBC building was, well, hellish. The NBC building is near the lake, and to get from the El to the building I had to walk through a large open plaza that during the winter was like walking through Antarctica. I would arrive a work windblown, frozen, with watering eyes and a red nose. And all that to get to a job that I despised.
That experience soured my love for the El. It no longer held any romance for me. Now it was like a mean ex-boyfriend.
I was relieved when I left that job to work as a freelancer. My main client was in a northern suburb, and I got to drive to work, where there was a huge black-topped parking lot. FREE Parking! I couldn't believe my good fortune. I suddenly loved the large expanses of green grass in the burbs and the huge yellow-lined parking lot. I loved listening to NPR in the car and the 10 Starbucks on the way to work. The "El" I had had broken up and I had a new lover: My car.
My new job is a half-block from the El station. At first I tried to deny this. The first couple of weeks on the job I drove to work, "To make my transition easier," I told David. But parking is scarce, and if I couldn't find a free spot, I'd end up parking in a lot where I paid $13. After a few weeks I had to be honest with myself: We couldn't afford to spend that much. So I knew I had to make up with the "El" and learn to love it again.
I really have it quite easy now. David often drives me to the El station near our house. I'm near the "top of the line" so I usually get a seat. It's only a 30 minute ride to work, and I only have to walk a half-block from the El station to the door of my office building. Plus, there's a Starbucks right around the corner.
But I still have "El" baggage. I loathe waiting. Standing on the El platform waiting for the train is a test of my patience, especially in the cold. But I'm learning to enjoy the ride. Today I sat on the side of the train and felt the sun on my face. I noticed all of the church steeples on the way downtown. I like "people-watching" and find it interesting that you can tell what stop we're at by the type of people who get on -- the former frat boys and sorority girls at the Fullerton Station. The more diverse crowd at the Howard Station. When I take the train to Logan Square for Nordic Choir practice on Monday nights, I'm riding the El with hipsters and artsy types.
I'm trying to see my morning commute as meditative. Being quiet and contemplative in the midst of the chaos of humanity. To see each face that gets on the train and wonder who they are, what they're thinking, what they're struggling with. Or sometimes I just sleep (or try to).
Maybe one day you'll see my photo here.
This website was created by the sister of my good friend Mrs. Metaphor.
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