25 cents

A quarter is a quarter.

They don't mean much when they are some part of price tags that go through my credit card.

There are only two occasions when 25 cents mean a lot to me.

Firstly, it is when I do my laundry. I take doing my laundry seriously and I prepare for it

throughout the week. 

I collect my quarters. I do not use them away.  Even when I am buying a candy that is like 75 cents, I would use my credit card.

I found another occasion today, when 25 cents seem so much to me.

As I lost my U-pass, I have been paying for the bus/train fares since the beginning of this week.

Today, I got on the bus without knowing that I only had $1.75 on my paid bus card. 

It was snowing outside so I gladly jumped into the bus and put my card in.

A bus driver, in his low voice tone, told me to step aside.

I was a quarter short to be a passenger on this bus.

Gracefully, he kept on driving while I was frantically searching for a quarter.

Of course I did not have any cash on me.

After driving 2 blocks away, the bus driver told me to take my card back. I thought he was letting this one pass and I was about to give him a nice smiley face. Then he told me to 

get off the bus at the next stop.

Oh my goodness. I was about to be kicked out of the bus.

My searching fingers got even more desperate, and luckily I found my little purse for coins.

It looked like I had a 10 cent coin, a 5 cent coin and bunch of 1 cent coins. 

I could not tell whether they make up a quarter or not, but I was too nervous to count them.

So, I threw all of them into the coin box. 

In that split seconds, I was pleading the bus driver to let me stay on the bus.

He did.

I sat next to this person, whose smell was unbearable to my nose.

Forgetting whatever that was on my mind before I found 25 cents, 

I started complaining again.

I hate riding a bus.

Today, 

Jansen left me a message on facebook,

telling me to keep writing on my blog.

I have been feeling like I was talking to the wall, 

whenever I post something here.

I mean, I understand that people are too busy to read my bus/train stories.

It made me feel great to know that someone is interested in my stories.

I also felt great because I finally figured out what to do with my stories 

for the show next Friday.

Art begets art

Thanks Pate Conaway!

f**k

I did not know that the day after a snowy day was a day to avoid riding buses & trains.

I waited for the bus in the morning. I felt good. I had good breakfast. I was ready for the day.

The bus came 10 minutes later and 

as it it were teasing me, 

it passed right by me.

It was packed.

Then the second bus came, 15 minutes later. It was packed.

I didn't have any other choice than pushing myself into the packed bus.

There was a guy standing right in front of me. He was shorter than me and maybe for that reason

I felt even more uncomfortable.

I got off the bus.

I then went down to take take Blueline to school.

10 minutes later, the train came, packed. The door opened and there were these people

standing, starring at me, silently saying, " Don't you dare!"

I let that one pass.

I looked at my watch and I was very likely to be around 10 minute late for the class.

The second train came 15 minutes later, packed with people.

I tried to step in but the door closed right at my nose.

" FUCK!"

To my surprise, I said this dreadful word like more than I had ever said in my entire life.

I don't swear.

I mean, I occasionally say the S word when I bang my head or my foot.  But I don't swear.

And I said F-U-C-K this morning, in front of many many people.

When I had to let the third train pass me, I was about to throw a tantrum.

" F, F, F, F, F!"

I couldn't believe it.

I felt mortified for swearing so much in my life.

But I was even more embarrassed to be so late for the class.

I am a girl who swears now. I am very sad..

Hi Shira!

Yesterday 

on the bus, 

I bumped into the girl with whom I took a life drawing class together at UC Irvine.

Her name is Shira and she is an amazing painter.

What a small world!

flat tyre, bus, walk, singing and Chicago winter

On the way home from Thanksgiving dinner at Erin's

I caught a ride from Kristina. She just bought a second-hand car for real bargain

and it's been a week since she got a car.

I was wearing heels and when she offered a ride home, I was crying out in my mind

' THANK YOU!!!!'

Just when we got onto the road, we heard a weird noise.

Her front right tyre was completely flat.

Luckily we were right by the petrol station so we pulled over.

There were Kristina, her friend from California, Michal and Nadav. And a drunk guy who was

so eager to help us. I ended up having to give my packed thanksgiving food from Erin's place

to this guy, but still, he wouldn't leave us alone.

While everyone else was doing the "car-talk", I was standing behind them, feeling helpless and

unbearably cold. What a memorable Thanksgiving, I thought.

I remembered our family trip during winter onetime. I was 5ish and my family was driving to 

this hot spring in the snow. All I remember is that the road was very slippery and the car was running out of gas. Mom told us to pray for the petrol station, but even as I was praying, 

I was so dismayed. We were in the middle of nowhere! My dad was driving very slowly, kept telling us that everything was okay. After an hour or so, I saw this red light and that was the sign of petrol station. I was so relieved that I had to pee so badly!

We all came home without making it to the hot spring. But the shower at home was as good as any natural hot spring I could imagine. 

It was 9:30 pm, and Kristina decided to call a tow truck. 

Michal, Nadav and I decided to catch a bus home. While waiting for the bus, Nadav said,

" The Damen bus NEVER comes!"

and I said,

" All the buses, they never come, you know"

Finally we got on the bus and while Michal and Nadav were sitting together, warming each other, I stared at the window, laughing at this whole situation.

I got off.

I had to walk 2 blocks to my apartment. The street was deserted.

So I decided to sing. 

Really loud, too.

At first, I was singing to forget the coldness, 

but as I went on, I got a bit technical and I was like, 

'hmm, I am so bad as I thought I was'

I spent a total of 3 hours on redline train today.

On the way home in blueline train, I thought I would not mind passing out on the street.

Maybe I just wanted sympathy from strangers..

sara grosses' story-2

There are two things that I wanted to include in this entry, but that didn't get mention.  
One is that, as a theatre major, I will probably move to a city post-graduation.  I consistently worry that the adventure and story-telling side of the transportation system will fade for me... as it is difficult to remain open and excited for adventure every day.  
The other thing is something that Ryan, the pumpkin-carrying boy said to me on the train
Ryan: "You know, people can tell that you're not from around here as soon as you open your mouth. Do you know why that is?"
Me (wondering if my Northern Ohio accent is that strong): "Umm..."
Ryan: "No one else around here talks"

story of Sara Gosses-1

I don't actually live in Chicago, but my sister does so when I travel from my tiny Michigan town to "Chi-town," public transportation is part of the adventure, rather than a necessity of getting somewhere.   In addition to this, I love making strangers not so estranged.  These two things combined result in meeting some of the greatest people. 

Here are four of my favorite ways I have met people:

1.       Saying Hi:

My sister moved to Chicago (and closer to me) this August.  I, along with numerous other family members, visited for her birthday.  My sister, her boyfriend and I took the train across town to the hotel where the rest of my family was staying.  There were just enough seats open on the train to make it silly for us not to sit down, but for the three of us to have to separate when we sat.  My sister and her boyfriend moved to the back and I sat down next to a guy staring off into the distance who appeared relatively friendly.  I sat for awhile, drumming silently on my lap when I finally said hello.  He wasn't listening to music or doing anything that signaled 'don't talk to me' so I figured it was okay.  Plus sometimes you just need to at least acknowledge each other (hello may be substituted for even the head-nod to get the ball rolling).  He returned the greeting and before 2 stops had passed I learned he had raced at a cross country meet I had watched that morning.  He was from Midland, MI and was the summer training partner of one of the freshman on my cross country team at college.  It's a small, small world.  My new friend and I spent the next six or so stops talking about cross country training and recovery methods while my sister and her boyfriend sat next to silent strangers.

 

2.       Offering Candy:

I wouldn't recommend doing this to everyone you meet, but you can tell the candy eaters.  Many people will not accept your offer, but immediately afterwards you can make the joke "Oh… is it because I'm a stranger?  Hi, I'm (insert your name here)". It's not the best joke, but it is one of my favorites.  And now your seat partner knows your name and the door is open for small talk—if he/she so desires. 

When my grandma passed away a fall ago I did not have my car at school and had to take a bus from Michigan to Chicago and then all the way to Ohio (Cleveland area).  Including the waiting, the trip ended up totaling around 12 hours.  I met many people on this trip which helped it go much quicker.  While waiting in the bus station in Chicago I met two nice middle-aged men as well as an older, free-spirited gentleman through this method.  I had a long philosophical talk about whether or not time existed with the free-spirit heading to San Francisco and discussed making the right decisions while you're young with the two middle aged men, one returning to Houston after not finding a job in Chicago.   Maybe not everyone cares about these topics, but I do and they are a great way to give meaning to time.

 

3.       Giving compliments:

In general people enjoy compliments.  I have found the best kinds to give are ones directed at something controlled by the individual.   Does the scarf appear hand-knit? Remark on it.  Do the buttons on their coat appear hand-sewn? Notice it verbally. People are flattered when someone likes something they have created.  This includes commenting on how the whole ensemble "just fits together".   Sometimes you receive a polite thank you. Occasionally you receive a whole story and a beaming compliment-receiver.

On the same trip I listed above I saw a boy with these amazing pants all made of patches.  He was sitting three seats ahead of me, but once when he glanced back I stepped out on a limb and yelled up that his pants were awesome.  The trip was a longer one, so a few stops later when the woman (rereading her favorite book, which she recommends (yes, it's okay to ask), on the way to visit her granddaughter) left, he moved back to tell me about them.  My new friend told me how he'd spent the last few months traveling from music festival to music festival with his girlfriend who was now in South Carolina.  She would make pants and sell them or trade them for food.   He was wearing a pair she had made for him.  All he owned were those pants, the rest of the clothes he was wearing, a change of underwear, a bookbag, a sleeping bag and a notebook.  I had brought crayons and asked if he wanted to color as we waited for our stops. He did.  When I left I gave him the bag of bagels I had brought with me.  I hope Todd's doing well…

 

4.       Bringing a pumpkin:

I have only done this once, but it brought much laughter, conversation and bulkiness while traveling. 

I drove to Ogden Dunes and took the South Shore line into Chicago.   On the way, the girl who I was sitting next to me remarked that a pumpkin (along with my two bags) made for an interesting seat partner.  I laughed and told her I was taking it to carve it with my sister.   She was on her way to take her engagement photos with her fiancée who attends Moody.   We alternated between conversing and studying and it made for a wonderful start of my trip.  We are now facebook friends. And in case you were wondering, yes her pictures turned out beautifully. 

 

Upon arriving downtown I stood looking at a map to find the nearest brown line to take to my sister's house.  A guy around my age stopped and asked me what I was trying to find.  I told him and he was also taking the brown line so I followed him.  As we shuffled down the busy streets, me dropping my bags and almost my pumpkin, he offered to carry my pumpkin.  Usually I would have said I was fine, but I was slowing us down so I took him up on his offer.  He carried my pumpkin and helped me as we got onto the train.   We talked and shared stories of our past.  Another man joined in our conversation and switched the topic to different sorts of pumpkin or squash pies. I didn't have much to say about them, but it was interesting to hear someone so passionate about them. 
While making conversation I consistently attempted to not block people from exiting. At one point the train started to move again while I was moving out of a person's way and I nearly wiped out with my pumpkin in my arms.  Then ten or so people behind me laughed with me as we imagined what might have happened had I not, at the last possible second, caught myself on one of those silver poles in the center.   With the help of Ryan, the boy who originally carried my pumpkin, I got off the train at the right stop and was on my way.   According to Ryan he's usually shy.  I refuted this by stating that he had offered to help me. He laughed and replied saying that he couldn't help but stop to help "this poor girl with a pumpkin in her arms".

Of course, this does not help in defining privacy and some days everyone you see on the train wants to bury themselves in their books or i-pods, but on those days when there's a person or two "open," take advantage of them.  Acknowledge that they exist and invite them to acknowledge you.  You will often leave the train or bus feeling oddly renewed. After all, someone took the time to talk and to listen. These sorts of things are important. 

dance therapy

tonight, I felt a little "nutty" after I got out of a brief experience of Dance Therapy.

I had a courage to take Jansen's advice on dancing while waiting for the bus, 

so I did.

I realized I have no dancing bits on my Ipod. 

So I danced to a gospel (contemporary gospel, it was)

and I felt great.

thanks, jansen!

Serena's story

Jane,

Today, November 8, 2008, is the first truly cold day of the winter that, plus posting on this blog, has me thinking of my first winter in Chicago in 2000. I am from the West Coast and I could not believe how cold it was here. I was truly shocked and surprised because I didn't know that it could get that cold outside of the North Pole. I remember one night waiting for the bus near the lake after working a fancy holiday party at a fancy house on Lake Shore. Somehow, serving food to people who had hired a bartender, server and piano player for a party of 10 people and then walking out to wait and wait and wait in the freezing cold, made the cold worse. They were literally sitting cozily around the fire and there the bartender and I were, waiting for the Sheridan bus in the howling wind, waiting for a bus that felt like it was never going to come. 

Today I found a quote online from a University of Chicago student who was working in Antarctica that same week in December 2000. She said, "The more I hear about the weather in Chicago, the more guilty I feel about being away in Antarctica. Reports include bone-chilling temperatures combined with lots and lots of snow." 

Finding that quote today was vindicating. It really was cold, colder than it has been since. I learned several things that winter. One, there are people with more money than they can use and two, layers are really, really important and three) never wait for the Sheridan bus. It never does come.

sweet words from a friend

jane,

this is so sad. being big on public trans, i know how you feel. the world moves so slowly when you're standing, waiting for the bus. it is lonely, but what I do is i throw on some big noise-cancelling headphones and i dance. just a little. at least head and shoulders, foot tapping, i play my lap as a keyboard. you'd be so surprised at how much more enjoyable music can be if you move even just a little bit. your surroundings become more vibrant, lights somehow pulsate to the music, people step and sway their arms to the beat, and at that moment you can't help but smile.

Then! someone asks, "what are you listening to?". then it's not so lonely anymore.

hope this helps!

Begging over my torn-apart-U-pass

My U-pass got torn apart by the machine on Friday. It was totally ripped in half.

Since I had to wait until today to get a replacement card, I have been begging the

bus drivers and the ladies at train station to get me by. I would make this sad face and then

tell them, as if I could not believe this had happened to me, about my card. Then I would show them my card and wait for their sympathy. It's been good so far.

This morning, though, I had to walk 20 minutes in this weather to the pink line station.

The freaking google direction made it sound so doable and easy to walk to the train station.

Google direction doesn't know anything about walking in 34 degrees. 

There was a lady at the station and I got the face again with my ripped U-pass on my hand.

I didn't have a really good feeling for this one. She looked mean.

Even before I tried my story, she saw my ripped U-pass and said, "NO." She actually yelled.

Normally, I would just pay for the fare and hate her for the rest of my life. Today was different for several reasons. Firstly I didn't have any cash on me and secondly, I could not imagine walking back home to get some coins. Thirdly, I had this strange courage surging up, telling me to "stand up" for myself. So I did. Actually I begged. 

This girl with boots, gloves, scarf and big fat padding jacket, but still looking freezing, with a useless U-pass on her hand, was trying to explain how wretched she felt. 

I think it worked. The lady paused and looked at me for 3 seconds. Then she shook her head and let me get on the train.

3 years ago, someone told me that riding public transports is a humbling experience.

I totally hear her.

crank dat cta

just knowing that there are some other people, too,

reacting to CTA in "creative " way of their own.

check this video on Youtube:click

"crank dat CTA"

Free Live Music at redline Lake stop

I thought about missing the train and waiting for the next one

for the firs time that day.

Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova

especially good when you are riding a bus in rain.

click:

Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova - Lies

a dollar luxury

It was one saturday night and I was waiting for bus 66 on chicago and state.

I feel lonely at the bus stops. Always. The deep lonely feeling that I don't even know it is there, that I hardly have time for or even try to acknowledge, comes to my conscience whenever I am at the bus stop.

So someone like me, standing at the bus stop alone on Saturday night is not a desirable situation to be.

Luckily, this time, I had a luxury of having a musician as my company.

I gave him a dollar and I don't think a buck justifies what his presence and his performance that night at that time did to me.