Tuesday, July 18, 2006
People of the Train
I’ve been working downtown for approximately 2 months now. And I’ve discovered that there’s a whole different breed of idiots who ride the train. I like to call them People of the Train, or POT-heads. (I know, I’m recognizing the “O” of “of” but not the “T” of “the.” It’s my acronym. Get your own blog and come up with your own acronyms! I promise I won’t say a word about them. Jerk.)
Before discussing the idiocy of the POT-heads, I should probably state that most people who ride the train are normal. Well, as normal as the average person can be. It’s probably safe to assume that they’re idiots too. But I have no proof (yet). So I’m going to assume they’re not idiots for the sake of this blog.
The POT-heads, on the other hand, are raging morons. Let me tell you a story about the POT-head who sat next to me this morning. (He was the inspiration for this entry, of course.)
To set this up correctly, I have to describe the way the train’s laid out, in case you aren’t a Metra user. The train is set up with two rows of seats, each of which holds two people. (Of course, there’s a second deck with single seats, but I won’t bore you with that since I never sit up there. Wait. Didn’t I just bore you with that?) I usually take an express train, where my station is one of the last to pick up people. This means that I’m one of the last ones on the train. So, when I get on, the only seats available are aisle seats, which is where I sit. (Boy, I really chose a wordy way to tell you that I sit in an aisle seat. What the hell’s the matter with me? I need a writing class or something. Or maybe just an editor.)
Almost everyone on the train is going to the same place: downtown Chicago. For some reason, there are people who are in HUGE hurries to get off the train in the morning. So they start queueing up in a line that stretches from the doors all the way down the aisle. I certainly understand the desire to get to work quickly. I walk as fast as possible because the sooner I can get to work, the sooner I can get back home. (In theory, anyway. In reality, it just means more time surfing the net.)
The act of queueing up has diminished returns. For the first guy, it’s great. You’re the first one off the train, so you miss much of the crowd. You can just walk to work like you’re the only person in the city. For the second guy, it’s a little worse. You have to follow that first jerk. Once you get to fifth or sixth, there’s almost no advantage. Yet, people will gladly stand in line for 5 minutes so they can be 20th. And that’s exactly what the POT-head next to me today did.
What was supremely annoying about that was that he made me get up so he could queue up. He actually made me close my book, pick up my coffee and briefcase, and stand in the aisle so he could get up. Then he literally stood in line 2 feet away from me. He managed to get off the train a whopping 4 people (and 15 seconds) before me. I’m pretty sure this is why people aren’t allowed to carry guns. Because I would have shot that man for annoying me so much.
Before discussing the idiocy of the POT-heads, I should probably state that most people who ride the train are normal. Well, as normal as the average person can be. It’s probably safe to assume that they’re idiots too. But I have no proof (yet). So I’m going to assume they’re not idiots for the sake of this blog.
The POT-heads, on the other hand, are raging morons. Let me tell you a story about the POT-head who sat next to me this morning. (He was the inspiration for this entry, of course.)
To set this up correctly, I have to describe the way the train’s laid out, in case you aren’t a Metra user. The train is set up with two rows of seats, each of which holds two people. (Of course, there’s a second deck with single seats, but I won’t bore you with that since I never sit up there. Wait. Didn’t I just bore you with that?) I usually take an express train, where my station is one of the last to pick up people. This means that I’m one of the last ones on the train. So, when I get on, the only seats available are aisle seats, which is where I sit. (Boy, I really chose a wordy way to tell you that I sit in an aisle seat. What the hell’s the matter with me? I need a writing class or something. Or maybe just an editor.)
Almost everyone on the train is going to the same place: downtown Chicago. For some reason, there are people who are in HUGE hurries to get off the train in the morning. So they start queueing up in a line that stretches from the doors all the way down the aisle. I certainly understand the desire to get to work quickly. I walk as fast as possible because the sooner I can get to work, the sooner I can get back home. (In theory, anyway. In reality, it just means more time surfing the net.)
The act of queueing up has diminished returns. For the first guy, it’s great. You’re the first one off the train, so you miss much of the crowd. You can just walk to work like you’re the only person in the city. For the second guy, it’s a little worse. You have to follow that first jerk. Once you get to fifth or sixth, there’s almost no advantage. Yet, people will gladly stand in line for 5 minutes so they can be 20th. And that’s exactly what the POT-head next to me today did.
What was supremely annoying about that was that he made me get up so he could queue up. He actually made me close my book, pick up my coffee and briefcase, and stand in the aisle so he could get up. Then he literally stood in line 2 feet away from me. He managed to get off the train a whopping 4 people (and 15 seconds) before me. I’m pretty sure this is why people aren’t allowed to carry guns. Because I would have shot that man for annoying me so much.
