Unsent Letter

(Originally posted 11/29/2005)

The following is a letter I wrote for therapeutic purposes to the Chicago Transit Authority based on the horrendous 3 hour experience I had with their "services" from 7:40AM until I fell through my front door exhausted from what felt like a week’s worth of effort at 10:40AM.

Dear CTA:

First things first, I appreciate you. I really do. My parents brought me up right. I know before I begin with the negative I should first find cause to praise you. Without you I would have to drive around aimlessly after work trying to park my car whereas I could no way afford a spot in this neighborhood. I know that there’s plenty of street parking further west and north, but I am too much of an alcoholic/sex addict to move out of Boystown. Without you I wouldn’t have the joys of having been harrassed by the city’s finest and most memorable crack addicts and deviants. Where would I be had I never met the black man on the Diversey bus who asked me where I bought my pants, then screamed at me when I ignored him. Or the seemingly harmless woman on the 151 who got up out of her seat, made her way to the back of the bus where I was, then remorsefully informed me that I was going to hell when I died. I thanked her, informed her that I’d grown up Southern Baptist, and hers was not news I hadn’t considered. You are also a main provider for masturbation material, whereas the trains heading into the Loop in the morning are packed tight with gorgeous men with nice hair cuts and expensive suits. For all these things I am eternally grateful.

Now for the sour part, Mister. It’s bad enough that you make me watch 19 Red Line trains and 65 Brown Line trains whiz right past before you let loose the elusive Purple during rush hour, but the stunt that you pulled this morning was inexcusable. It started out nice enough. I walked right out of my building to the waiting arms of the Belmont bus. I felt like a celebrity strolling out of a party to his or her idled limo. I got out at Halsted because, according to your flawed web site, this was the most "convienant" route. When that bus finally showed up it was packed full of people! How? The route starts not even a half a mile from there at Broadway! You mean to tell me that that many people had come out of their homes at that exact time in no more than 5 blocks? I think you were asleep on the job again, and had you been running regularly (every 8-11 minutes, according again to that shameless web site), I wouldn’t have had to sit in the lap of some Polish cleaning woman.

But the joy didn’t end there. Somewhere before Grand and Milwaukee a man got on carrying what I thought was a television or a computer monitor. He had it tucked under his jacket on his right side, but as he got on I realized that he wasn’t carrying a basic home appliance. This machine was attached to him, was somehow inside of him, a part of him, and not in some fun RoboCop kind of way. Now why someone with built-in machinery would get on a crowded bus, with no regards to your stopping short and having him crash to the floor, is part of your mystique. Of course, without fail, he sits by me. Instead of looking away or asking him just what in the fuck that was growing out of his side and whether or not it had TiVo or internet access, I got up as if I was getting out. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, I did get off, about 6 blocks from where I needed to.

I finally arrived at the Metra Station around 8:35AM, foolishly thinking that I’d make it onto the 8:40AM train to Geneva. But much to my surprise the Ogilvie Transportation Center has about 20 tracks and zero signs to refer to or employees to ask which train is which. I frantically looked around for uniformed CTA people and when I finally found one enjoying a morning smoke right there on the platform he told me to go to Track 1. I was at Track 15 and the time was 8:39AM. I hauled ass to Track 1 just in time to see the train pulling away. Now, if this was 1942 and some hot sailer was waving farewell to me from the open car door and I was running alongside of the train waving a white scarf like in all of those War World II movies, then that would’ve been fine. But I wasn’t a beautiful blonde with a big rack from Iowa. I’m an out-of-work homo from Chicago who just missed a train that was taking him to a 10 o’clock interview.

I return to where the smoking guy was and he’s nowhere to be found. I finally find a ticket window and wait patiently for Verna, Maurice, and the rest of the crew to wrap up their in-depth discussion of whose turn it was to go on break. "When’s the next train to Geneva?" I ask. "9:40," one of them says. OK, CTA, an oversight on my part. I should’ve planned more time for potential error. I called and pushed back my interview an hour and treated myself to some McDonalds and a Xanax.

Around 9:40AM, I approach Track 1 and only see the rails, no train. I find yet ANOTHER one of your faithful servants and he tells me that the next train to Geneva isn’t until 10:40AM. It takes everything remotely Christian inside of me not to tackle him, so I calmly explain to him that I completely fault the transit authority for my missing a job interview.

"That sucks," he says, not looking me in the eye.

"Yes," I agree, "Sucks bad."

Needless to say, upon my second call postponing my interview, the lady with whom I was meeting suggests to me that she’ll call me when she has another opening. Being a Recruiter myself, this translates to her telling me to go fuck myself with a garden rake.

Now, CTA, I know you’re feeling bitter that despite a war for oil and staggering gas prices the world has not embraced either you or your colleagues in other cities’ services. But this is not my fault. I am a loyal customer. I give up my seat for old people (if I’m not tired). I keep my mouth shut when Latino mothers board the bus with 16 children and hault movement for half an hour. I would even report any suspicious packages if I were to ever see one. And I never vandalize because I know that vandals cost the CTA millions of dollars a year in clean-up costs. But making me miss a job interview! You have a job and with all the recent rate hikes I can bet you and your family are sitting pretty right now. And to do this to me around the holidays is just shameful. Shame on you, CTA. Shame!

I’m buying a car.

- Tony Thompson