So I got to my hotel and I survived.
I missed my train change because I was on the phone with Chris. It wasn't a big deal. I just had to wait for the train to circle back around to that stop which didn't take long. But as the train began to empty of the happy airport travelers and fill with the usual city goers I really began to feel out of place.
How stupid was I? I had this huge suitcase, the one me and Chris usually use in tandem, and my backpack I carry to school sitting there in my oversized sweat jacket and too large jeans looking a mess (I hadn't had time to shower before catching the shuttle.) Everyone else carrying as small as stuff as they could, looking boerd, and sure of where they were going.
The exchange was only scary because I had worked myself up. I had done this type of thing in New York what felt like a million times, even though we were only there for a day. But since I already was feeling stupid I might as well add on. I was regretting letting Joe go. He did seem like a geniuely nice guy and looking back, when we parted, didn't he seem just a slight bit worried? Like he wanted to help a young lady traveling alone, but knew it wasn't actually his responsibility and she wanted to do it herself who was he to stop her?
I found myself standing almost completely alone underground with a complete loss as to whether I wanted the north train or the south train. On the map it had looked like I was going south, but really until I have an actual physical reference I'm not very good with maps.
There was a man and a woman and I choose to stand by the woman. She looked like she had just gotten off work from somewhere so I asked her how to get to the Grand stop. She told me and I thanked her and I remember feeling so sad, it was the opposite of the direction she was goin g(north by the way) I was the only one waiting.
Eventually people began to come down and I shamelessly judged them straight out by apperances and who they were with. I was looking for someone friendly. Someone not scary looking.
A few guys had accumulated down the way and one kept leaning out over the train track looking in my direction and then laughing loudly. They seemed devious in their fun and though he could have been trying to predict the arrival of the train I couldn't help but feel their laughter was directed at me and how they planned to torment me on the empty train. I tried not to look scared and I tried to look like I knew what I was doing. I had done this thousands of times and I enjoyed carrying large lugage on trains at night. Since I had missed my first stop, it was alsmot a full hour later than I had planned to be wandering the streets of Chicago. That was also a concern.
The next guy to come down was someone I thought I had escaped when I got off the orange. He didn't look dingy or dirty or like a poor crazy person, but he acted like one. Maybe he was just drunk? He slurred profanities, and demanded all of us mother fuckers listen to him and I was so glad when he passed me by without much notice.
Finally more people started to come down and became deeply concerned that all the "safe" looking people were headed down farther to wait for the train from where I was standing. I got this dread that they knew something I didn't. That was the safe car, and me knowing nothing, had taken the unsafe car where people got mugged and raped.
This whole time I chided myself. I was being stupid and falling for stupid stories. I didn't even watch the news that often and it was like had that fright that old people get. More though, I couldn't beleive how basically I was judgeing people. That one might mug me, that one might give me directions, that one would ignore me, but I'd be safe, that one will give me trouble. All based on what htey were wearing or who they were with.
I saw this guy and girl who, in dress and familarity with each other, reminded me of Cody and Amity (from the MFA program.) Though they looked nothing like them really, I thought I should be with them, where they were, but they also went farther down.
A white boy who looked like rapper and had his hood up and sweat band on, dressed all in black, with one hand kept in a deep pocket, he looked like he was cut out of a movie and I remember thinking, God don't let him pick me as his murder induction into the gang.
For all I know the nice guy in the suit with the luggage that looked like my dad's could have been a serial killer and the large woman in a university sweat shirt who looked tierd from a long day, and boerd with mundane progression underground, could have , well honestly, also been a serial killer. But I didn't care. As soon as I saw them coming I felt an overwhelming sense that I was saved and I let them pass me by only a step or two and quickly followed behind them like they were who I was waiting for (even though we didn't greet) Maybe because she two was relieved (she had muttered, "ah, perfect timing" as the tunnel echoed with displaced air here comes the train)
I do know this. Sitting on that train surrounded by the people I had choosen to protect me, I didn't care if they were serial killers. I realzied I felt that was a game I could win. It was a mental game. I could loose them if they tried to track me or get me alone. They would act quiet and in private and I felt I could see it coming, sense it, deal with it. But I felt no security in outward, loud violence. I had no faith in my ability to run fast enough, to kick hard enough, to scream loud enough, or to make the correct split second decision (hand over the bag) that would save me from getting shot. I preferred serial killers.
Maybe I'm good at reading people or maybe I got lucky or maybe I was more blatently confused looking than I thought I was. To my disappointment the "safe" car didn't have a train map in it so had no idea how long I would be on it. I could only listen. But then the nice looking business man with my dad's luggage moved his stuff to make room for me, and th e lady in the sweat shirt asked where I was going and told me how many stops it was and ever reminded me the stop before that the next was me.
I thanked her as I exited and I really really meant it. I hope she knows that. Also I liked her verbal sigh of relief when we thought the crazy/drunk had gotten off but he jumped back on before the door shut and got into a whispering conversaion with the gang kid. Someone started to smoke and someone complained they were allergic and sat very irritadly and suprised when she was ignored.
Getting my suit case up all those flights of stairs and out of the gate was another mess, but the hotel was right where I thought it would be and much much much shorter walk than anticipated. I felt elated as though I had survived.
This morning in the safety of my hotel room, having worked out and enjoyed breakfast, I feel all this posibility. I'm excited and feel like I would enjoy traveling alone from time to time. Today is mine and I just might go see the sights.
I missed my train change because I was on the phone with Chris. It wasn't a big deal. I just had to wait for the train to circle back around to that stop which didn't take long. But as the train began to empty of the happy airport travelers and fill with the usual city goers I really began to feel out of place.
How stupid was I? I had this huge suitcase, the one me and Chris usually use in tandem, and my backpack I carry to school sitting there in my oversized sweat jacket and too large jeans looking a mess (I hadn't had time to shower before catching the shuttle.) Everyone else carrying as small as stuff as they could, looking boerd, and sure of where they were going.
The exchange was only scary because I had worked myself up. I had done this type of thing in New York what felt like a million times, even though we were only there for a day. But since I already was feeling stupid I might as well add on. I was regretting letting Joe go. He did seem like a geniuely nice guy and looking back, when we parted, didn't he seem just a slight bit worried? Like he wanted to help a young lady traveling alone, but knew it wasn't actually his responsibility and she wanted to do it herself who was he to stop her?
I found myself standing almost completely alone underground with a complete loss as to whether I wanted the north train or the south train. On the map it had looked like I was going south, but really until I have an actual physical reference I'm not very good with maps.
There was a man and a woman and I choose to stand by the woman. She looked like she had just gotten off work from somewhere so I asked her how to get to the Grand stop. She told me and I thanked her and I remember feeling so sad, it was the opposite of the direction she was goin g(north by the way) I was the only one waiting.
Eventually people began to come down and I shamelessly judged them straight out by apperances and who they were with. I was looking for someone friendly. Someone not scary looking.
A few guys had accumulated down the way and one kept leaning out over the train track looking in my direction and then laughing loudly. They seemed devious in their fun and though he could have been trying to predict the arrival of the train I couldn't help but feel their laughter was directed at me and how they planned to torment me on the empty train. I tried not to look scared and I tried to look like I knew what I was doing. I had done this thousands of times and I enjoyed carrying large lugage on trains at night. Since I had missed my first stop, it was alsmot a full hour later than I had planned to be wandering the streets of Chicago. That was also a concern.
The next guy to come down was someone I thought I had escaped when I got off the orange. He didn't look dingy or dirty or like a poor crazy person, but he acted like one. Maybe he was just drunk? He slurred profanities, and demanded all of us mother fuckers listen to him and I was so glad when he passed me by without much notice.
Finally more people started to come down and became deeply concerned that all the "safe" looking people were headed down farther to wait for the train from where I was standing. I got this dread that they knew something I didn't. That was the safe car, and me knowing nothing, had taken the unsafe car where people got mugged and raped.
This whole time I chided myself. I was being stupid and falling for stupid stories. I didn't even watch the news that often and it was like had that fright that old people get. More though, I couldn't beleive how basically I was judgeing people. That one might mug me, that one might give me directions, that one would ignore me, but I'd be safe, that one will give me trouble. All based on what htey were wearing or who they were with.
I saw this guy and girl who, in dress and familarity with each other, reminded me of Cody and Amity (from the MFA program.) Though they looked nothing like them really, I thought I should be with them, where they were, but they also went farther down.
A white boy who looked like rapper and had his hood up and sweat band on, dressed all in black, with one hand kept in a deep pocket, he looked like he was cut out of a movie and I remember thinking, God don't let him pick me as his murder induction into the gang.
For all I know the nice guy in the suit with the luggage that looked like my dad's could have been a serial killer and the large woman in a university sweat shirt who looked tierd from a long day, and boerd with mundane progression underground, could have , well honestly, also been a serial killer. But I didn't care. As soon as I saw them coming I felt an overwhelming sense that I was saved and I let them pass me by only a step or two and quickly followed behind them like they were who I was waiting for (even though we didn't greet) Maybe because she two was relieved (she had muttered, "ah, perfect timing" as the tunnel echoed with displaced air here comes the train)
I do know this. Sitting on that train surrounded by the people I had choosen to protect me, I didn't care if they were serial killers. I realzied I felt that was a game I could win. It was a mental game. I could loose them if they tried to track me or get me alone. They would act quiet and in private and I felt I could see it coming, sense it, deal with it. But I felt no security in outward, loud violence. I had no faith in my ability to run fast enough, to kick hard enough, to scream loud enough, or to make the correct split second decision (hand over the bag) that would save me from getting shot. I preferred serial killers.
Maybe I'm good at reading people or maybe I got lucky or maybe I was more blatently confused looking than I thought I was. To my disappointment the "safe" car didn't have a train map in it so had no idea how long I would be on it. I could only listen. But then the nice looking business man with my dad's luggage moved his stuff to make room for me, and th e lady in the sweat shirt asked where I was going and told me how many stops it was and ever reminded me the stop before that the next was me.
I thanked her as I exited and I really really meant it. I hope she knows that. Also I liked her verbal sigh of relief when we thought the crazy/drunk had gotten off but he jumped back on before the door shut and got into a whispering conversaion with the gang kid. Someone started to smoke and someone complained they were allergic and sat very irritadly and suprised when she was ignored.
Getting my suit case up all those flights of stairs and out of the gate was another mess, but the hotel was right where I thought it would be and much much much shorter walk than anticipated. I felt elated as though I had survived.
This morning in the safety of my hotel room, having worked out and enjoyed breakfast, I feel all this posibility. I'm excited and feel like I would enjoy traveling alone from time to time. Today is mine and I just might go see the sights.
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