GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #192: THE IRON HORSE

When I was in college one of my professors tried to convince me (and my fellow classmates) that when Columbus rolled into the Caribbean the natives didn't even see his boats. The reasoning is that none of the natives had ever seen anything like that, so their primitive eyes couldn't recognize their boats as reality. Sorry, I don't buy that. Even the stupidest bastard of the time knows what a boat looks like. Granted, these were majestic boats, but come the fuck on.


At the same time I always thought the bullshit about the natives being afraid of trains was just that. Come on. The Iron Horse (which is not a reference to the Motorhead song, which I believe is about heroin) is a bunch of white people garbage.


But.


This is my third week of commuting to my job in the city. Every day I leave home at 6:45 am, and I leave my car at 7:00 am sharp so I can walk to the train station so I can catch my ride at 7:20 am every morning.


The pattern is always the same. As I'm parking a freight train goes by. When I'm sitting down on my bench a Metra Express train rides through. Not too long after is the outbound train to Elburn, and six minutes later is the inbound train to Ogilvie. (If shit is running on time.)


Let's talk about that Express train. It doesn't stop at Elmhurst (or anywhere else until the city, as far as I know).


I've had some time to get used to this fucker, but it's not happening. Even if I'm at the bench in the station, far away from the one located outside, I feel . . . Well.


I don't know how to describe this thing. It thunders through Elmhurst without mercy like a wrathful god. Just passing through it causes a suction effect. It feels like it wants to drag me under its tracks. It's absolutely terrifying. Every time it passes through my balls try to Charles-Bronson-in-The-Great-Escape it back into my lower guts.


I cannot, for the life of me, understand the suicides who throw themselves in front of trains. I would sooner shit my pants and proudly show it off to family members than to jump in front of one of these death machines.


I'm a big guy. This fucking Express train nearly drags me off my feet just by passing me. I can't imagine being a stick-thin person under six feet at a hundred and twenty pounds withstanding the onslaught.


Trains are powerful fucking things. While I still refuse to believe the natives didn't see Columbus because their eyes couldn't comprehend his ships, I suddenly understand the threat of the Iron Horse a lot more.