GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #248: RUNNING FOR MY TRAIN

One of the things I miss about working in the suburbs is the fact that I never had to worry about making my train home after work. It's usually not a major concern, but every once in a while I have to run to get my train. If I miss it, I'm stuck in the city for a whole fucking hour before the next one is ready.


I had to run for my train tonight. I was so pissed because I'd spent the day working up a good buzz due to my company providing free beer and pizza for us. Running totally fucking killed it. I had to ride that train sober because of the physical exertion.


I work in the repair department of a telecom company. I'm in the queue until the pass off to on call happens. It happened late today because a lot of shit was fucked up. I got a call at 8:05, and I had to take it because we didn't do the pass off yet. I got out at 8:20. 8:25 is the latest I can get out of work and make my train. I had to run for at least two blocks to make my train.


I'm OK with that. I'm not in the best of shape, so that sucks, but I can live with it. Except . . . well . . . I had a lot of free beer tonight, and I had to piss. Badly. My back teeth weren't just floating, they were fucking drowning. I had to make a decision tonight: make my train or take a forceful piss.


I chose to make my train. Holy fuck, that run was painful. When I got to my train with 5 minutes to spare, I rushed to the bathroom on the last car and pissed longer than Tom Hanks did in A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN.


I was so late for my train that I had to get a seat on the second level. While I was up there, I realized that just about everyone with me had a beer from the News Room. I'd put that at 95% of the people on the second level. I didn't realize that many people needed a beer for the ride home. I'm very proud of my fellow commuters.


But fuck. On my run I thought I was going to piss my pants. Like, a lot.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #234: THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS

I've seen a lot of horrible shit on my commute to and from Chicago every day. Like the time I saw a dead body at the train station. Or the time someone had to be literally thrown off the train. Or the time that a street preacher told me to get home before I died. Or even the time that the weird guy stood outside a bank and constantly yelled, "FUCK BANK!" Over and over again. I'm still not sure if he was requiring action or just naming a bank.


But it's not all bad. There are some good people out there. A while back, when my laptop was in the shop (hence why I didn't write about it at the time), I saw a guy walking along, and something dropped out of his bag. His phone and a money clip. He kept on walking without a care in the world. Before I could open my mouth to tell him, someone else notified him of it. He thanked them and went back to retrieve his property.


And then, this week, I saw a woman who missed the last step on her way out of the train. She cried out and hit the pavement face first. I stopped, ready to step in and help, when I saw a crowd of people surround her and pull her to her feet. She was shockingly not harmed. I would have thought she'd at least have a few cuts, but she was okay. Just rattled. She laughed it off.


I hate the city. It's an awful place full of awful people. It would be beautiful without the humans. But it's not all bad. There are decent people out there, and they're always ready to step forward to help. Remember to do your good deed for the day.


One more thing: ever read Mark Millar's HUCK? It's fuckin' great. Remember #OneGoodDeed. Click on it for an awesome news story.

HEY, FUCKERS #28: IT'S FUNNY THE DIFFERENCE A HALF AN HOUR MAKES

I had to go into work a half-hour early today. My commute turned out to be quite different from my usual schedule. First of all, and best of all, I got to park on the first floor of the parking garage today. That's pretty cool. But then I got to the train station. It was dark out. I read every morning while waiting for the train. I had to read by streetlight, which was awkward because I had to tilt the book in order to see the words.


There weren't a lot of people there. Once on the train I saw that there was plenty of room. Weird. I even got to have my own seat. At one point I glanced out the window and saw the dark skyscrapers of Chicago. The sun was lurking just behind them, not quite up and out of bed but getting there. The predawn light made the buildings look like dead, empty monoliths.


I took to the streets, and yet again I noticed that there was barely anyone walking to work. It was far from the seething throngs I see every day. Even the homeless guys were just showing up. They didn't have their cups out yet. It was kind of like they were showing up for work, and they were just getting settled in.


As soon as I got away from the river it was almost like a dead zone. I saw maybe a handful of people before I got to my office. It almost got to the point where I had to wonder if someone had closed down the streets to film something, and I was just walking around on their set. I kept expecting some angry director, possibly Michael Bay, to yell at me.


Just as I got to my floor I saw the front doors locked, and there was a pile of newspapers just outside. No one manned the receptionist's desk.


Very odd. I wonder if my commute home will have any differences. My initial thought is that there won't be, but I could be wrong. The difference this morning was a half an hour, and I'm leaving a half-hour early. It's funny the difference that makes.






















Hey, I bet you thought I forgot about HEY, FUCKERS. Well, I did, sort of. Remember when I got that new shift at my old job and decided to quit writing GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS because I'd be writing it at something like 8:30 or 9? That's not a bedtime. 10 or 11 or even midnight, those are fuckin' bedtimes. I got antsy and started this series, which could be written at any point in the day. But then I found myself in a position to resume GF, so HF fell by the wayside. Unfortunately my laptop is in the shop right now, and I'm chomping at the bit to write more GF's. Until I get it back, I might send off a few HF's if I have the time. The laptop isn't due back until Halloween.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #217: NOW APPROACHING RIVER FOREST

I've noticed that on my train commute there is an automatic audio announcement for every stop, and I kind of find it funny that it treats each stop differently. I don't pay attention in the morning because there are only two announcements: Oak Park and Ogilvy. But in the evening?


My first stop is Kedzie. There is no pleasant way to say that word. It always comes out awkward or distasteful. It's so bad that no one gets off there. Only two cars are on the platform at the time. Metra doesn't care about Kedzie. (As a side note, remember the time I talked about the bum who got kicked forcefully off the train? It was at Kedzie. Just to add some flavor.)


Then we get to Oak Park. Might as well be announcing we're all breathing today. It's too matter of fact. Water is wet, folks. As you were.


The next stop I'll mention later, but after that is Maywood. Again, not much of a fuss. Just grass growing. Melrose Park, on the other hand, seems like it's a surprise to the automated response. Melrose Park? We're stopping there? Really?


Next up is Bellwood. The robot doesn't know what to make of the word. It gets it wrong every time. It sounds vaguely right, but it's a mish-mash. Ugly.


The next two stops are Berkeley and Elmhurst (my stop). Both times are like Melrose Park, except it's not just a surprise. It's a pleasant surprise.


But there's one I haven't talked about. One that is completely different from the others. I think the robot is very happy about this one. It's the third stop: River Forest. When it announces this stop, it is completely pleasant and impressed, like River Forest might be the greatest place on the planet.


And sure, it looks nice. It's not bad for a mid-level suburb of Chicago. Doesn't look rundown, but it doesn't look very civilized, either. Some of it is actually pretty beautiful. No wonder this computer likes it. I imagine if it was trying to become a sentient being, emotion and all, it would want to commute from River Forest everyday.


Is my train becoming self-aware? Oh shit.