Feb. 1st, 2009 02:14 am
"Tothom m'estima i jo estim tothom!"
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muckefuckIf you click on the "cta" tag, you'll find a string of rantlets about minor inconveniences. It's so seldom that I have a ride which leaves me at least as happy afterwards as I was when I boarded that, for the sake of balance, I really should write this one up.
My friends dropped me off at Jackson about an hour ago to catch the HoDaR. Fortunately, it came pretty soon and wasn't crowded. My choice seat--the one at the very back--was taken, but I took one nearby and kept an eye on it for it to open up. The riders were the usual mix of drunken bums and college kids, but no one was so loud I couldn't open my book and read.
That is, until one of the drunks (who informed us his name was "Luther") sat in front of me and began preaching to the crowd. My choice seat hadn't opened up yet, but one next to it had, so I relocated--only to find myself witness to a war of words. I missed the precipitating incident, but a smartly-dressed man in cornrows was tongue-lashing a sleepy-eyed man who'd gotten on with Luther. Among other things, he was accusing him of pretending to be a cop.
I put my nose in my book, but kept one ear on the fracas, and soon I was running my eyes over the lines without taking in a thing. The usual sports bar crowd got on at Addison and Cornrows roared, "He's a cop!" to them, indicating the drunken fool. The latter got off at the next stop--and to my surprise, an exchange of good-natured railery sprang up between Cornrows and one of the new boarders.
One of the recurring themes was that the "fake cop" had given the new guy his badge upon leaving and our man was now in charge of the train. "There are two kinds on this train," Cornrows told him, "Cubs fans and White Sox fans; which are you?" "I'm a Milwaukee Brewers fan!" said our man, and I couldn't help but break into a wide grin. Brewers Fan immediately picked up on this and pointed me out to Cornrows, and I pulled my Cardinals scarf for identification. "But I give up for the Brewers," I told them.
Usually, I'm fatally misaligned with the wee-hours crowd on the train. I'm as sober as they are wasted, and as tired as they are ready for fun. But the combination of party afterglow and late-night punchiness was perfect for me to appreciate the spontaneous rapport between a black dude and a cheesehead in a car hurtling through the North Side. I wished them the best before getting off, and Brewers Fan needled me about the Braves. "Don't talk about the Braves!" I said before floating onto the platform, facing a hike home through dark soggy streets.
My friends dropped me off at Jackson about an hour ago to catch the HoDaR. Fortunately, it came pretty soon and wasn't crowded. My choice seat--the one at the very back--was taken, but I took one nearby and kept an eye on it for it to open up. The riders were the usual mix of drunken bums and college kids, but no one was so loud I couldn't open my book and read.
That is, until one of the drunks (who informed us his name was "Luther") sat in front of me and began preaching to the crowd. My choice seat hadn't opened up yet, but one next to it had, so I relocated--only to find myself witness to a war of words. I missed the precipitating incident, but a smartly-dressed man in cornrows was tongue-lashing a sleepy-eyed man who'd gotten on with Luther. Among other things, he was accusing him of pretending to be a cop.
I put my nose in my book, but kept one ear on the fracas, and soon I was running my eyes over the lines without taking in a thing. The usual sports bar crowd got on at Addison and Cornrows roared, "He's a cop!" to them, indicating the drunken fool. The latter got off at the next stop--and to my surprise, an exchange of good-natured railery sprang up between Cornrows and one of the new boarders.
One of the recurring themes was that the "fake cop" had given the new guy his badge upon leaving and our man was now in charge of the train. "There are two kinds on this train," Cornrows told him, "Cubs fans and White Sox fans; which are you?" "I'm a Milwaukee Brewers fan!" said our man, and I couldn't help but break into a wide grin. Brewers Fan immediately picked up on this and pointed me out to Cornrows, and I pulled my Cardinals scarf for identification. "But I give up for the Brewers," I told them.
Usually, I'm fatally misaligned with the wee-hours crowd on the train. I'm as sober as they are wasted, and as tired as they are ready for fun. But the combination of party afterglow and late-night punchiness was perfect for me to appreciate the spontaneous rapport between a black dude and a cheesehead in a car hurtling through the North Side. I wished them the best before getting off, and Brewers Fan needled me about the Braves. "Don't talk about the Braves!" I said before floating onto the platform, facing a hike home through dark soggy streets.
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no subject
It makes me happy, too, that us few Milwaukee Brewers fans can admit to our loyalties without shame.