Sharon's Muse.... Let's chat over coffee while I ponder some things
|
Sharon's Muse.... Let's chat over coffee while I ponder some things |
About Me
Name::Sharon Cullars
From::
My Meez 
Recent Entries
Archives
Personal
Interesting Sites
RAINE'S BLUES 
Now available at Loose-Id Watch trailer for Raine's Blues
GOLD MOUNTAIN 
Available at Loose-Id
AGAIN
Need Flashplayer to view. Give time to load.
TOOL & BAD BOYS Short, Short Ebooks My Artwork
My Merchandise Freelance Projects
blog posts, articles, web content, resumes, copywriting, proofreading
Read my business guides at Work.com
Read my profile on Air Station Savannah's pivotal Katrina rescues
Read my article on the Fair Trade system
Credits |
Thursday, December 14, 2006 My underground adventure So I'm running a little late today and just make the Red Line subway train pulling out of Chicago and State. Usually, I don't sweat running for a train, especially after the the doors close. But this time, the conductor opens the doors for me and another straggler, so I get on, loaded down with heavy packages. We head to the next station at Grand and State; the conductor loads up, then pulls off. After that, we enter the long, barely-lit tunnel between the stations. We get about a mile past Grand when the train stops; the power is off. I'm in the first car, so I can hear the conductor on the radio. He finishes, and tells the passengers on the intercom that there's a medical emergency. I'm wondering who is sick, and how they are going to get to the person when the conductor clarifies his statement: the "medical emergency" is actually a jumper who flung himself in front of a train several stations up. Which meant all of the trains are jacked because the power is turned off. Even the trains south of the stop which should not have been impeded. So what happens when you're stuck in a subway, with no power, and the air beginning to feel stifled? How do you control anger at the poor soul who leaped, or the conductor who sheepishly tells you that he was instructed to wait at the prior station, but decided to move the train anyway? As I noted, the last station is about several kilometers behind us. The only way out is for everybody to make their way to the back car, exit out onto a foot wide ledge that is about a couple of feet over the tracks. Tracks that may still be electrified; we don't know. I'm trying to keep courage, even joking about at least this isn't the Titanic and at least there's hope of getting out of the predicament. This dumb statement gets me a withering look from an older black man who turns around to eye me like I'm the stupidest thing walking. Don't give a fuck at this point because I didn't use the bathroom when I left work, thinking I was going to make it home in time. Now I don't know whether I'm going to make it home at all when I see that itty bitty ledge. And note the differential between said ledge and the width of my hips. To fight my nervousness, I keep up a conversation with the lady behind me who's already late picking up her daughter from daycare and is lamenting the extra charges. I'm just worrying about being late period - late as in falling off the ledge onto an electric rail. We slowly make our way along the ledge, holding onto a bar, but sometimes there is no bar to hold on to. Sometimes there are light globes; sometimes not. We hear people moaning in fear; I can't afford to stop even though sometimes I'm afraid to take another step. After about a half hour or more, we finally see lights ahead. It's the station. I'm almost feeling jubilant, then I hear exclamations ahead. What now? Here's the what. There are jutting power boxes or whatever the hell they are. Said foot wide ledge is now just inches wide. Fortunately, the calvary in the form of transit workers and firemen are walking along the tracks. I ask one of them if the tracks are de-electrified; he says he's not about to try to find out. When I get to power box, one of the workers takes my heavy bags from me so that I can cling and scoot around box for all my life is worth. We run into a couple more of these jutting obstructions and at one point I almost lose my IPod that has somehow cleared my shallow coat pocket and is dangling dangerously by the earbud wire along the perimeter of the ledge. I haul it back to safety, hoping its weight doesn't propel it off the wire, off the ledge or even onto the ledge because there is simply no room to bend (with my wide ass) to pick it up. Finally, with bated breath I clear the last obstruction and step up on the platform of Grand station. I say something about hoping I'll find a bathroom and garner another withering over-the-shoulder look from ole fool who has nothing better to do than censor my chatter. Of course, there are steps to climb to freedom and civilization. I have to borrow someone's cell phone because of course I let my battery run low and I call my mom to let her know what happened. I head to Nordstrum's for the bathroom, then walk out of the mall to Michigan Avenue where I walk to the corner just in time to miss my express bus. Another twenty minutes, I'm steamed at everybody: the bus driver who casually passed me by even though she spotted my waving hand; the idiot conductor who didn't know how to follow protocol and endangered lives; and uncharitably, the soul who leapt onto the tracks. I know I should feel some sympathy, but someone else could have gotten hurt because of his (or her) action (at the time of this writing, we don't know who jumped). There might have been small children on this train who would have been forced to walk along this precarious ledge. Hours later on the phone with my friend, she puts it in perspective for me. That poor soul had to be out of his head to do this. She tells me to pray for his family. This is the third suicide on the Red Line in about two years and sadly it probably won't be the last. Nearly all of us have been to that dark place where we think about shuffling off this mortal coil; luckily, we've pulled back from the edge in time. So in the comfortable safety of my home, my heart finally goes out to this stranger who didn't pull back from the edge, but saw it as his (or her) only way out.
|
| Layout Design by Hajira | Thanks to:Getty Images • Blogspot • Blogskins • |
