Round trip on the Blue Line
What awaits the poor suckers who fly into O'Hare?
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Due to construction, the train actually starts at the Jefferson Park station this weekend. Just one of the many fun projects to run afoul of this summer. Oh, and for people arriving from O’Hare, welcome to Chicago.
Both White Sox and Cubs uniforms are represented, though anyone trying to get to the game is pretty late. That doesn’t seem to matter to a group of Cubs fans, who are drinking Bud Light out of a cooler like this is the Metra.
Che Guevara T-shirts and wool hoodies replace the Sox and Cubs shirts. Since it’s that part of town, a quick hipster inventory is in order: a more twee version of Elijah Wood, check; two cute Asian girls with some kind of Hello Kitty paraphernalia, check; one guy in black-framed glasses jotting things down in a notebook, uh, check.
At the Grand platform, the conductor makes an unintelligible announcement with the words “bicycle” and “sliding doors” in it. The train stops and the doors open. The conductor repeats the announcement, only louder and angrier. Most of the Blue Line cars have older, accordion-style doors that open inwards. Apparently, bikes are only allowed on the cars with sliding doors. Unfortunately the person with the bike hasn’t figured that out yet, and the conductor starts screaming about getting off the train. After a delay, the train finally moves again and the conductor makes another announcement regarding transfers to the Red Line. There will be no transfers at Clark/Lake, only at Jackson. “Red Line trains are running _____ at this time.” No one can decipher the blank, but it’s a good bet “as scheduled” is not the correct answer.
The conductor is back to talking about bikes and sliding doors. She sounds apologetic now, but she says, “There’s a sign right there on the door that says no bikes.”
The four people left on the car groan as it starts to pour. Well, three people groan, one just says “Goddamn” really loud.
The sign on the door doesn’t actually say “no bikes.” It’s just a picture of a bike with a circle and a slash through it. And it isn’t prominently placed.
Ever been on a completely empty El car for three stops? It’s like being in an M. Night Shyamalan movie—before they started sucking.
A pack of kids get on and break the silence. This train has the same conductor as the last one, who loudly shouts that she will call the police if something, something, squawk, feedback. Shortly after starting, the train slows down and a surprised kid yells, “She’s calling the cops!” They scuttle off through the emergency exit.
The car gradually fills up. After standing at LaSalle for 15 minutes, riders are treated to another announcement from a lady clearly having a bad day. Ten minutes later, the announcement gets repeated, although most riders have exited the train and made alternate travel plans. The conductor pleads, “I’m sorry. I can’t move. I can’t go anywhere until the train goes southbound.”
Wide-eyed O’Hare-bound travelers with loads of luggage trickle on.
Add one more item to that hipster checklist: dude with faux mullet.
Because of the giant delay at LaSalle, the train will run express to Jefferson Park. Half-understanding the message, a few passengers scramble to get off the train. Other, luggage-toting passengers ask, “Does this mean the train’s still going to O’Hare?” “Well, sort of,” is their answer.
At Jefferson Park a shuttle takes passengers to the next stop, Cumberland. Then they can get back on and wait for a different train to take them to the last three stops. At this point a hasty executive decision needs to be made. Do readers need a full on eyewitness account of this shuttle exodus, or can they be trusted to figure out how miserable it was for themselves? Guess which one we chose?