Lucid Waking

Archive for January 26th, 2008

Trip to Harold

        “So we’ll meet on Saturday,” Monica said.
         “Yeah, we’ll take the Skokie swift down to Howard and then switch to the Red line, which we’ll then take to the library,” I answered.
         “All right, I’ll call Jamie. Hopefully that shouldn’t be a problem.”
         “Ok…see you Saturday.”
         “Yep, see ya.”
         I hung up the phone. This project was ending up being a much larger pain than we had thought. Too bad it was a requirement. I opened up my Internet browser and searched for the train schedule. I knew Monica would call back soon asking about a time, so I thought I’d be prepared. I clicked on the button labeled “train schedule” and looked for the Skokie swift, yellow line. My phone rang again just as I read “weekdays only.”
         “Jamie said it was all right with her, but she’s going to drive, she has a family thing, so she’s going to meet us whenever we get to the library. What time is that, by the way?”
         “Well the swift doesn’t run on Saturdays, so why don’t we just meet at Howard and take the red line down?”
         “Sounds good to me,” she said. “Time?”
         “Oh, yeah. How’s three?”
         Soon it was three o’clock on Saturday and I was in the car next to my mom. She had informed me that we were approaching the station, so I called Monica just to ask where she was.
         “I’m at the corner right before the station.”
         “Oh, I’m almost there.”
         We passed by the corner, but just saw the usual plethora of unknown, tired people.
         “Wait, where are you?”
         “I’m getting close to the corner. Where are you?”
         “In the car passing by Osco.”
         “Oh, I think I see you.”
         “Let me out here,” I told my mom.
         “Here?” she looked out my window before driving past. “There’s no one there. Where is she?”
         “Where are you?” I called into the phone.
         “In the car behind you.”
         I looked out the rearview mirror into her face peering at me from the windshield of the blue car behind us. My mom dropped me off by a parking complex a little ways from the station. Monica appeared behind me. The daylight was waning. I was nervous to be walking in the middle of the city as it was getting dark, but I knew this project had to get done, so I kept close to Monica and continued on.
        The tracks were under construction, so the street was dirtier than usual and had less space to walk. We followed a maze of fences to the opening of the subway, dirty and dark. As much as I liked Chicago, I don’t think I could ever live in the city. It was dirty and dark, despite trying to be clean and pretty. The El stations were the worst example of this in the city.
        We paid for a transit card and somehow managed to deal with the machines that kept spitting out cards and not letting us go through in time for the train to arrive. We checked the map, made note to get off at Jackson and then sat down on a seat. The train surged forward before finding a steady stream of motion. I watched the people leave and arrive trying not to stare too much.
        Monica’s phone rang; her conversation left me time to look out the window and think. I pondered what I was going to do when I got home, how much homework was still left, how long it had been since I had called my friends at college, the last time I had been on the El. I watched the sky get darker and the city below us get lighter. I checked my watch: 3:40. The library closed at 7.
        The surrounding stations seemed less and less familiar as we went along and stops they were calling were not on the map above the door. I was getting nervous, but I had faith in the system. Besides, we could turn around at anytime.
        “Hey, can you take Lake Shore Drive to Harold Washington?” Monica asked me pulling me from my city watching.
        “I guess so. I’m not really sure where we’re going…”
        “Yeah,” she said into the phone. “No, Bri doesn’t know either how to get there, but she said it goes through.”
        The lady behind us turned around. She was dressed surreptitiously in pink and at first, tried to catch our eye. Now that she had it she turned all the way around.
        “Are you trying to get to Harold Washington Library from Lake Shore Drive?”
        “Yes,” I answered. “Or, my friend is.”
        “Tell them to take it straight and then turn on Jackson, which if you go straight will turn onto Congress. That should get them to the library.”
        Monica repeated the directions into the phone and then hung up.
        “Monica,” I said quietly, “this doesn’t seem to be going the route we thought.”
        “This is a red line train being rerouted on the upper route,” the conductor said over the fuzzy speakers. “Washington is next.”
        “Look,” Monica said pointing to the label above the window. It had turned from the red “95th/Dan Ryan” that it had when we got on, to a purple “Loop.”
        “When did that happen?” I asked, laughing nervously.
        “I don’t know,” she said laughing back. “Well we want to go to the loop, so maybe we’ll be Ok.”
        The lady in front of us turned around again. “You can get the library if you stay on the line; it’ll take a while, but you want to get off at Library stop.”
        “Thanks,” I said, relaxing a bit.
        I went back to musing out the window, watching the waning light nervously. I checked my watch: 4:15. The train continued on, changing back the to the red label in the window that said “95th/Dan Ryan.”
        “Cermak-Chinatown is the next stop,” the conductor said.
        Monica and I exchanged looks.
        “Chinatown is way too far,” Monica said. “We’ve completely passed the library.”
        Just like Huckleberry Finn, this was turning into an adventure on train like an unpredictable river. But unlike Huck, I did not like adventure. It clouded my judgment and made me nervous which didn’t help since we were miles away from our intended destination. “What do we do?” I asked, my stomach tightening. I could feel the tears burn in my eyes, but I focused hard on keeping them in check.
        “We’ll get off on the next stop, see where we are, and then get on a train back to Howard.”
        “Ok,” I said. I felt a little calmer having a goal in mind. The train stopped and we got off calmly into the freezing         Windy City. The light was barely visible above the buildings and the station was dim as the train sped off towards the end of the line. Monica pulled out her map.
        “See, we’re too far South,” she said. “We just need to find a train and go back the other way.”
        “God,” I said, letting loose a deep breath. “This is turning out to be a disaster.”
        “We’ll get there,” Monica smiled. “When does the library close again?”
        “Seven,” I said as a train came in with a roar. We quickly crowded into the car. This time only a couple seats were open. Three girls in front of us made a move to the back of the car, then changed their minds and went the other way. Not seeing any other seats, we sat in the ones they rejected.
        A man behind us sat against his seat, but a little too close for me. He smelled like old urine and seemed to have a shadow over his face. He was obviously someone who didn’t spend much money on clothes and my best guess was that he lived on the train. I refuse to turn around and kept on the edge of my seat, a little ashamed of being scared of him, but being scared nonetheless.
        “We’ll get off at the next stop,” Monica said. She seemed just as uncomfortable as me, though it was hard to tell. I nodded.
        The train stopped again and we got up as casually as we could going down the steps of the Washington station like it was our plan all along.
        “Now what?” Monica asked me.
        “Let’s see if we can get out of here.”
        “I’ll call Jamie, maybe she can give us a ride.”
        “I can call my mom and get us a ride, just incase.”
        We both dialed our cell phones, keeping close to one another and recounting our options. I looked around for a map, feeling hopelessly lost in space. This station was completely unfamiliar to me, but I was so lost by now, solid ground felt good, even if I ultimately went back on a train.
        I looked up and spotted a blue piece of paper frame on the wall that caught my eye by the words: “To all train passengers.”
        I read on:
        “Due to construction, the red line and blue line trains will be rerouted above ground from November 31 until February 5. We’re sorry for any inconvenience.”
         “Monica,” I pointed to the sign.
         She looked at it and smiled. “So that’s what’s going on,” she said.
         “Why can’t they make these signs larger?”
         She laughed.
        “Oh, Jamie?” she said, turning back to her phone, “Yeah, we’re stuck at Washington station…Well, funny story…”
         I followed her, waiting for her conversation to finish. The guards were looking at us strangely, but they didn’t bother us. Quite honestly, I don’t think we needed them anymore. People stared at us as we stood on inside the station and waited for an answer from Jamie.
         “She’s going to pick us up,” Monica said closing her phone.
         “All right, let’s go.” We left the station.
         It was completely dark now, but the lights and traffic lit our way. We crossed the street to the Starbucks. At least it would be warm, and we could avoid being bothered if we were out of the street. I felt safer being in a store with people than outside with no one around.
         We brought a little money for making copies, but my clock read 5:50 and both of our stomachs were growling, so we bought salads from the refrigerated case and ate heartily. Monica’s phone rang, and after hanging up she said,
         “She’s here.”
         I threw out my garbage and followed Monica out of the Starbucks where Jamie was waiting in her car.
         “Geez, Monica. You told me to park! I wasted money on parking!”
         “Thanks for picking us up,” I said.
         “No problem,” she said, “but somebody told me to park. If you needed help, don’t tell me to park! It was four dollars! Parking around here is not cheap.”
         Monica laughed.
         “I’ll pay you back,” I said.
         “No don’t worry about it, I’m just teasing her. I had just found a spot when Monica called for me to pick you up.”
         “Stupid El,” I said.
         We all laughed. We yelled at the other drivers and made jokes, switching the radio stations and singing along until we reached the library.
         “Get out,” Jamie said to Monica, “and help me park close to the curb.”
         Monica got out of the car and moved her arms like an air traffic cop squeezing herself as close to the bars of the blue line station as she could. We fed the meter and walked toward the gold and frosted glass door of the Harold Washington Library and pulled on the handle.
         The door didn’t move.
         “Look,” Monica said pointing to the window.
         “NO! We came all this way, too and the library closed at five!” Jamie said hitting her head with the base of her hand.
         “What?!” I said leaning forward to the schedule on the glass.
         “It closes at five on the weekends,” Monica said. “We missed it by and hour.”
         “But we went all this way…”
         “Yeah, and Mrs. Peterson said it was open until seven. She better give us extra credit for this!”
        “Lots of it,” I laughed.
        “We’ll make a Powerpoint about it,” Monica chimed in.
        “Anyway, you guys hungry?” Jamie asked. “I am. Let’s go to Chinatown and get some dinner.”