Chicago and Trains

He looked around. He had only gotten as far as several blocks outside the airport, yet it seemed as though everywhere he looked, the mayor was welcoming him to Chicago. If he had wanted a personal welcome from the mayor, he would have rung him up, told him he was coming and asked him to meet him at the airport. Then he would have gotten a limo to his hotel and he wouldn't be sitting on this beastly train.

It had seemed like the best option at the time. He had thought about it carefully. There was a hotel shuttle: a bus to the hotel that went to all the other hotels, likely hitting rush hour traffic, all the red lights, an emergency vehicle or two and construction. Or there was the subway. The subway would avoid rush hour traffic. There would be the commutator rush but you would still be moving, not stuck on a highway. He could take being wedged in with his fellow men if he felt he was still making progress towards his destination. Red lights were not an issue, in fact the only hindrance to the subway making time was how quickly people could get off and on the cars.

Yet, as he had looked up, it felt as though a cold hand had gripped his insides. Yes the sign most definitley said, " 'Putting Rapid Back in Transport' to be completed by December of 2008. To downtown in 45 minutes or less." Forty-five minutes! He had taken the train to avoid such a journey. Trains were quick; they didn't stop at traffic lights and they didn't run into traffic jams. It seemed that trains had a bigger problem - the rebuilding of their tracks; construction for trains.

As the train lurched out of the station, it slowly swayed its way into the daylight. It's tracks met the highway and ran inbetween the two opposite directions of cars. His worst fears were confirmed. They were being passed, left, right and centre by the cars. A marvelous sight met his eyes: a traffic jam! Then the train started to slow down. He started to panic. Then the train entered a tunnel and picked up speed. He started to breathe again. Then it slowed as it entered a station. He started counting the stops to his station. He decided it was going to be touch and go. Forty-five minutes was beginning to seem optimistic.

A voice sounded over the loud speaker reminding everyone that solicitating and gambling were illegal on the train and the platform. He watched his fellow passangers. The old man up and to his left was fumbling with a case. He sat up straight and peered at the man. It looked as though the man was about to put his false teeth in. He tried not to stare, and when the man pulled out his hearing aid, he tried not to look disappointed.

The train was now elevated and there were row houses abutting the track. He amused himself by looking at the houses. The neighbourhood seemed like the typical neighbourhood that ends up around a railway; slightly run-down, a bit sad, and a bit rough. He decided it was better to see the back yards to Chicago then its finest bit of pavement in the form of six lanes of highway.

He checked his watch and re-counted the stops. Resigned, he pulled his book out of his bag. He made a mental note that next time, he would phone the mayor and inform him of his arrival. With any luck, he would get a helicopter and avoid the issue of public transport all together.