Monday, December 14, 2009

I Don't Mean To Go Off On A Rant Here...

In my experiences over the past five months, I have found that Chicago is an incredible city and the ideal inhabitancy for my own particular disposition. I thouroughly enjoy the elation of living in a bustling metropolis. Only in a city of Chicago's magnitude can a resident fulfill their desire for Vietnamese cuisine, have their hair attended to by an Italian barber and pop-in at a Mexican grocery to obtain a weeks supply of carnitas and tamales- pivotal components to a proper diet (consult the food pyramid)- all on the same block. Whether it is the diversity or out of necessity, this city has been maticulously designed for the lazy and the picky, two characteristics that define my existence.

However, Chicago's strengths can often double as weaknesses. Take for example Chicago's mass-transit system.

The trains, buses and cabs all operate for one simple purpose- to take you where you need to go. They are in business to make our lives easier. For this reason I am grateful to have a system like this in place. It is a convenience to not be required to own and operate a motor vehicle, it is a delight to have reliable transportation during unreliable weather and is it a god-damned thing of beauty to have a cab waiting for you as you exit/stumble from a bar. Unfortunately, it is when the system complicates matters and fails to keep me happy that I question its convenience.

Briefly, this is what annoys me most about the mass-transit system:

I cannot understand the people who pay over two dollars to take the bus less than three blocks. This is incredible. My own personal research has found that the bus is the preferred method of travel by Chicago's overly-obese population. Not only should the overweight be required to walk to and from the grocery store to obtain their Snickers bars, they should have to take it one step further (literally) and walk a lap or two. Try strolling around without a purpose or destination, it's been known to happen. Take it slow for now, we'll talk jogging later.

When people eat on the train, why is it always McDonalds? I'm already trying to ignore the stench of the homeless guy eight rows up, I don't need your whatever-piece McNugget meal thrown into the mix.

If an Ethiopian cabbie ever tries to explain to me the proper method for hailing a cab and then scoffs at the tip he receives ever again, I am worried that my reaction may warrant handcuffs. You pulled over when I flagged you down, did you not? You benefited monitarily from my travel, did you not? You were the one that initiated the verbal assualt, I just decided to finish it.

Those are my complaints, for now. How therapeutic.

3 comments:

  1. Ha - more detail about the altercation between you and the cabbie, por favor.

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  2. Dantaniel:
    Haven't I enlightened you on this topic?
    When- 7:45 or 8am on a Saturday.
    Where- Near Broadway and Granville in Edgewater.
    Why- Late for work, car was left at the bar from the night before.
    Who- Myself and one authentic African cabbie.
    How- Me: Hungover as hell. Cabbie: Clearly disgruntled.

    After I flagged the cabbie, he pulled over. As I climbed in, he informed me I hailed the cab wrong and that I needed to leave my arm raised for a longer period of time.
    Because I shoot from the hip, I said, "You pulled over didn't you?" (Hungover mind you) I gave him my coordinates and we drove on.
    Once we arrived you know where, he gave me my total. It was roughly 13 and some change. I had only a 50 and 15 one dollar bills. I settled for the ones since cabbies rarely have change for some strange reason. (sarcasm)
    He derogatorily explicated "Hey asshole, there is tax here you know." I, stepping out from the cab, claimed "There's always tax, don't tell me how to hail a fucking cab."
    He-just as disgruntled as before-tucked four fingers, revealing but one and yelled "Fuck you asshole, fuck you." I returned the gesture and briskly walked away.

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  3. Man, that convo was amazing! Your writing is good. I love the post about the con artists. Fuck 7-Eleven. And why oh why did you not take us to the Mecca of all grocery stores, while we were up in the big city. Oh well, you've just earned yourself two guests the next time we're back stateside.

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