Towns Flying By
The 6:30 a.m. train to downtown that Ben had to take was an all-stop, but it managed to arrive at the downtown station 20 minutes earlier than the next train, the 7:00 a.m. express. His morning meetings always annoyed Ben because he knew that he would need an extra 20 minutes to get to the office on time. Not only did that mean Ben had to wake up an hour earlier, but by being stuck on the all-stop, there was a realistic chance the train would fill to near capacity, and if someone needed a seat, he would have to move his bag and let them sit next to him.
As the train started to depart the platform, the smooth rumble of the wheels against the tracks gave a rhythmic feeling, almost restful. Ben wished he could take a nap, but for the most part, he didn’t mind as he enjoyed watching the towns come and go, doing his best to try to remember what stop was coming up next.
The first part of the journey into the city was Ben’s favorite as the tracks cut a swath through the forest preserve. It was a nice complement to the rumble of the train as, for a few minutes, nature would speed by rather than the upcoming scenery of concrete and steel.
“I wish it were sunny. The trees would look so much more colorful,” Ben thought to himself.
For a moment, he started to reach to get his phone out of his pocket to take a picture, a picture no one would probably ever see, but then thought better of it, knowing that between the dirty window and the lack of sunlight, the picture would be lousy.
“Why not just enjoy the scenery, Ben?” he said quietly to himself. “Everything doesn’t need a picture.”
Ben had to remind himself to just enjoy the moment every now and then. For him, however, it wasn’t trying to be in touch with the world around him, most of the time it was because he remembered he didn’t post his pictures anywhere and never looked at them again. Most of the “enjoy the moment” times were built on the desire not to fumble with his camera to take lousy pictures.
As he finished enjoying nature fly by, Ben reached over to his bag, fumbled through the papers and folders to get out his tablet to read. As the tablet began to emerge from the bag, he sighed and let it slide back into the bag.
“Ahh, there isn’t anything I’m in the mood to read.”
Back looking out the window, Ben realized that he had missed most of the scenic part of the ride as the trees began to become more sparse, revealing High Street, which ran parallel to the tracks.
With the next train station coming up, there was a slight movement of his body forward as the brakes of the train were applied. Anxiety came to Ben, hoping there wouldn’t be a lot of people getting on the train, and especially hoping no one would want to sit in the seat next to him.
Pulling into the station, the platform wasn’t as full as Ben thought it might be. He breathed a slight sigh of relief. Business people and students climbed aboard, and Ben’s open seat was left empty.
With the scenic portion of the ride behind them, the train began a journey from small town to smaller town to small town to smaller town, a pattern that would continue until the train arrived in the city.
With the passengers aboard, the train slowly departed the station. Ben tried to think what the next station would be, watching the cars along the streets, and noticed a man who missed his train running towards the station as if the train would stop, back up to the platform, and let him board. Ben would observe if the town looked depressed or vibrant, thought maybe he should read, and his body drifted forward a bit as the brakes of the train were applied once again as another station approached.
The anxiety returned, hoping once again that no one would sit next to him.
Ben knew there were ten stations between where he lived and downtown Chicago. Through six of them, the train pulled away, leaving Ben a little more relaxed. Stop number seven proved not to be so kind to Ben as a man walked down the aisle and passed an empty, two-seater a few rows up. As the man continued down the aisle, Ben could see him look at Ben’s bag taking up the spot next to him.
“Do you mind if I sit here?”, he asked Ben. Ben’s thoughts shifted to “God, I hope this guy doesn’t want to have a conversation the rest of the way.”
Ben grabbed his bag, “No, go ahead,” and the slightly unkempt man sat next to Ben.
A quiet, “Thank you,” came out of the man’s mouth.
In full-blown panic mode, Ben thought back to his college days when one of the first bits of advice he was given was, when traveling on foot through Chicago, to wear headphones no matter where you were. Walking the streets, on the El train, going to the subway, even eating lunch, just have them in your ears, even if you didn’t have them connected to anything. The philosophy, Ben was told, was that people would leave you alone thinking you were being antisocial. Those around you wouldn’t ask for directions, nor want to talk to you, nor interact because you had headphones on.
Sadly for Ben, he did not have anything that would scream “Please don’t talk to me!”, other than trying to look out the window. As he sat there watching another town fade into the distance, trying to look at anything through the dirty windows, all he could do was sit there, listening for small talk that he hated, something like, “Cloudy day, huh?”, or “Full train today?”
He just kept hoping his “next seat neighbor” wouldn’t say anything to him.
Suddenly, though, the unimaginable happened. Ben heard some rustling next to him and couldn’t help but turn his glance to the left. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man next to him pull a folded newspaper and headphones out of his bag.
The man put on his headphones, tapped on his phone screen, and started reading his newspaper.
A sudden sense of relaxation came to Ben, knowing the man would be wrapped up in his own little world the rest of the ride, but then Ben thought, “Wow, do I come off that much of an asshole that the guy doesn’t even say, ‘Hello?’”
Ben turned to look back out the window. Another town came and went, and the train rolled through an industrial neighborhood where Ben could see the rail yards with shipping containers being readied for their journeys to places Ben would dream about. The train slowed again, pulling into the last station before getting to downtown Chicago. The man next to Ben was still working on reading his newspaper, and it occurred to Ben that while he was slightly annoyed with not having the extra space, at least he didn’t have that anxious feeling any longer.
Ben could relax and enjoy the rest of the ride.
The train pulled out of the station, and Ben gazed out the window as the skyscrapers of the city began to grow larger and larger in the view.
“Almost there,” he thought, but then a look of “Oh, great,” came to Ben’s face as he started to see water streaks emerging on the windows, slowly masking the view of the buildings.
Ben closed his eyes, slowly put his chin to his chest, and breathed a heavy sigh. Lifting his head up, he pulled out his cell phone, opened up one of the six, weather apps, found the radar page, and there it was, a green blob, signifying rain, hovering over the city.
“I knew I should have driven into the city. Shit,” he whispered under his breath.
The train began braking one last time as it rolled into the caverns under the streets to unload the passengers at their destination.
The man seated next to Ben put his folded newspaper back into his bag along with his headphones, and looked at Ben. “Thanks again for letting me sit here.”
As he walked away, Ben thought how rude he had been to the man, how he could have at least said, “Good morning.”
Those thoughts quickly passed as Ben remembered he was going to emerge from the underground caverns finding a city being watered by a rainstorm.