Ode to the CTA

(To the tune of Oh Christmas Tree)

O' Chicago Transit Authority
You pick me up and transport me
To work, the gym and back again
In theory you are a useful friend.
O' Chicago Transit Authority
Connecting me and my city.

On the Brown line I used to ride
Douchebags, Woo-girls by my side.
Weilding coffee, Kindles, pills
to cut the edge off last night's thrills.
The Brown line serves only trendy parts
but still smells like old booze and farts.

Sometimes on the Red I'd be
to play guitar or go shopping.
It stops at Cubs and White Sox fields
Ride during games? There's no appeal
Sticky, it sees the most vomit
I'll believe Rahm when they upgrade it

To the Orange line I moved
Where laborin' Mexicans were rarely rude
but school kids, Asians and Polish
are loud and rarely speak English.
It was the furthest south we've stayed
and now we're glad to go away.

Yellow...
[elevator music]
Nobody takes yellow.

The Pink line I don't often pick
cause riders are either docs or sick.
They wear their scrubs even though I've read
that they should change so germs don't spread.
Though passengers have smarts and wealth
I question their handle on public health.

The Purple line is just for 'burbs
and Northwestern wildcat nerds.
Some commute from Evanston
but forget post-work drinks and fun.
For if you miss the last train out,
you will sleep on someone's couch.

To get to work I take the Green
Take today for a typical scene.
A man enjoys a 12 piece, thighs
Wheezy ring tone, a baby cries
Nearly everyone's annoying me
my senses need a coronary.

Soon on the Blue we will commute
the most crowded silver bullet shoot
With doors that barely open still
and hipsters with ironic smells
I think we can exchange fair cards
for tat's, piercings and PBRs.


O' Chicago Transit Authority
You pick me up and transport me
To work, the gym and back again
In theory you are a useful friend.
O' Chicago Transit Authority
Connecting me and my city.


---
*The racist, classist, sexist remarks in the poem are intended to be funny and light-hearted.
or
*The racist, classist, sexist remarks in the poem are not representative of the author's opinions and are intended for entertainment purposes only.
or
*This is not your blog.

Tipsy Tuesday: How to get pit stains out of shirts

A 1:1 ratio of peroxide and Dawn with a bit of baking soda for abrasion. I've heard from more than one person that Dawn is the best brand of soap for this type of job because it is a grease-cutter. Even my jeweler said I should use Dawn to clean my engagement ring. (Either good marketing, or a darn good product!)

I have use this solution twice on a batch of 4 or 5 shirts each time and it works. 

I mixed the liquids together in a wide dish and then dip a scrub brush in the mixture. I pour a bit of baking soda right on the affected area and then bring the wet scrub brush to the cloth and scrub, scrub, scrub. 

The tools (Minus the scrub brush. I used one with handle like the kind you might use to clean a shower.)

Pre-scrub shirt

The stain may dissipate some while you are scrubbing, but it will fade even more if you let it soak for a few minutes and then run it through a normal wash cycle. If the stain has not faded after the wash, don't put it in the dryer (that will set the stain further). Scrub it again with the mixture and then run it though a second time. I got all of my shirts clean and stain-free in 2 scrub/washes or less!

My dad also informs me that peroxide and Dawn are good for getting skunk smell out of hunting dogs :) I guess this is the miracle mixture!

Party on the CTA!

Did you know that you can charter a CTA train? Granted, you can't bring booze along, you can't charter it during rush hour (which would be sweet) and it will cost you at least $1800. But it is interesting!

Tipsy Tuesday: Are You the Sand or the Pearl?

This morning on my CTA commute in to The Loop and back out the other side, I sat next to a woman who shook my world at 7:30 AM.

She said, "Good morning", after I made her move so I could sit down.

To be brutally honest (and brutal only to myself for even thinking the way I do), I often hold my conversational breath and try not to stare when riding this certain train. It brings people from the deep south side of Chicago into the city and runs through The Loop to service some of Chicago's worst neighborhoods on its way to a nearby suburb. (Don't worry, Mom, I get off the train before it hits the bad 'hoods.)

This part of my commute is rarely quiet, full of single moms with too many babies and too few hands, men on cell phones yelling expletives too loudly for the morning hours (as if there's ever a good time to do that publicly), large women taking up 2 seats each and talking at (not to, but at) one another from across the train, and not to mention the headphones that ironically share unwelcomed music-for-one in the form of rap-crap and someone's basement acoustics.

So when this woman greeted me kindly and then went back to reading her book, I was startled and then wary that she might try to talk to me. I like my commutes like I like my sleep - cool, quiet and comfortable (and I'd add clean, but that's not a CTA priority... although I did see someone Cloroxing the turnstiles once!).

The woman went back to reading her book but then muttered in my direction 4 stops later, "Excuse me?" Good gravy, I thought. It starts.

"Do you know what this word means?" She pointed at the page and mispronounced it, stuttering.

A quick panic washed over me. This is every writer's/literary's test. Put your grammar, language and vocabulary skills to test in the real world! Oh glory be, I should get this right. I had to think about it, but was able to come up with the correct pronunciation and defintion quickly enough to appear credible. She said thank you and we shared a weird giggle (I think it was a giggle).

I strutted off of the train as she said, "Have a good day", to me. I squeaked out after a too-long pause, "Thanks, you too". Walking with pride all the way down to the street level, I fished for my phone among the beverage fixings in my purse.

The beverages in my purse (not the water, but you get the idea).

Upon hitting pavement I Googled the word. Whew. I got it right. Mostly right. The women could probably deduce the tone of the word from the text she was reading to get the right connotation.

And then the guilt filled in where the relief subsided. I was so wonderfully proud of myself for getting an SAT word right on a real life test, that I forgot to return her verbal well-wishes for the day until an awkward beat later.

I may have puffed with pride at my book-knowledge, but where would that get me? How often will someone feed me a line about needing to know a word or a definition? And, by comparison, how far will that woman's kindness get her? I may have access to good jobs, have a great education, be a shameful iPhone user - having the world at my literal fingertips. But she, she has everything and then some because she's kind to strangers, doesn't see color or class and is humble enough to ask questions.

The world is her oyster and I'm the sand feeding into the pearl.

Thought for Thursday: (Don't) Supersize My City

According to this article that I found on Eat Drink Better blog, Indianapolis (capital of my home state) is one of the most inactive cities in America.

Does seeing statistics like this motivate you to take the stairs more? Walk instead of take the bus or drive?

Hold onto your Hat (and your iPhone): How to Be a Good Patron of the CTA

I've been meaning to write this post for a while regarding the general public when it comes to public transit.

The CTA trains have overhead speakers announcing courteous traveler protocol, but apparently that's not enough. Folks still disregard the comfort and safety of other passengers on Chicago's buses and trains.

I travel using the CTA as much as the average car-less bear out there and through some shotty math I have concluded that I spend over 2 weeks a year riding a CTA vehicle.

Let's take a look at some helpful hints for all you newbies and rude-ies out there.

- Keep your smelly to your self(y). We are in an enclosed space folks, so try to stay outta my 3-ft bubble with your petri-dish-teeth and crotch-rot.

- Crazy people. Lock it up or stay home. Your choice.

- People on cell phones. We can all hear you.

- People using cell phones as boom boxes. We can all hear you. Thanks for sharing but we don't like your racial slur slingin' rap as much as you do.

- People listening to broke-a** headphones at high volume. We can still hear you and you aren't fooling anyone Mr. grown-man-listening-to-T.Swift. Take our sideways glances as a hint to lower the volume.

- Don't talk to someone unless you are sitting by them and even then, use your inside voice. Because, again, we can all hear you.

- Move your bags (from your back, from the seat next to you, from the aisle) to allow people to get around the train. Keeping a handle on your bags will help keep you and the people around you safe. It might also keep you from getting your iPhone stolen.

- Put your cigarette out before entering a subway station or other confined space.

- Don't move seats a lot just to find the best view. This isn't musical chairs. There will be no prizes.

- If you don't know me, don't talk to me. I am not here to make friends. And if you do know me, it's still ok to ignore me. It's not like we chose to meet up here.

- Soliciting hobos? If you must panhandle, please don't stare me down if I am hesitant to reach for my wallet. I did not choose to be your captive audience.

- If you are a standing passenger, please hold on to a bar or handles. I know you have a latte and a newspaper, but my morning commute isn't your morning break so hold on and stop dry-humping me when the bus/train jerks/stops.

- The train will give you plenty of time to exit. You needn't get up so early to get off the train that you cause a domino effect of other passengers.

- If the train is crowded and you are in a doorway, step off the train to allow others to exit. You are not a ghost (oh how I wish you were) and people cannot walk through you.

- Strollers. If you're baby can't walk on his/her own, why is he/she in the city?! Don't you know we live in the time of bird flu, H1N1 and SARS!? Keep that baby underground (but not in the subway)!


(Alternate title for this post? Things that make me lose my sh*t.)

pic via