CTA Tattler

Another death at Morse El station

Yet another person met his maker after being hit by a train at the Morse El station on the Red Line.

The details surrounding this death were not so clear-cut as the earlier case. NBC-5 TV reported first there were "body parts" found on the tracks around 1:50 a.m. on Monday. Trains were shut down till about 6:30 a.m. so officials could recover the body of a man in his early 20s.

Police at the local 24th District told me that the man was walking on the tracks when he was struck by the train.

Update, Aug. 23: I have heard from family members of the victim, who dispute the police version of events. They are trying to learn more about what happened. I wish them well. And may God rest his soul.

Bus stabbing over $5

Somehow I missed this one last week.

A 45-year-old man repeatedly stabbed his coworker on an early-monring Michigan Avenue bus over a $5 debt.

The assailant used a pocketknife to stab the 32-year-old victim in the arms, chest and buttocks. The victim was recovering from his wounds.

Overheard: Boxing, triple bypass and coffee in laptops

This guest post comes courtesy of Nina's better half, Lee. If you haven't yet looked at his Overheard page, you must. Now. Well, after you read this, of course. Thanks, Lee.

The two young men sauntered into the el train and sprawled across the seats by the door. They shrugged out of their jackets and loosened their ties, all the while talking loudly and merrily about a boxing match they'd just seen.

"And after all that," one of them cried, "After all that, he just put his gloves down. Like: I'm not going to fight that guy."

"I know, I know. How long did he train? Like a year? And he just can't go through with it. I mean, you never know."

They both dissolved in laughter; but one of them grew suddenly pensive: "You know? You just never know. Look at Sniffles."

The other nodded gravely. "You want to talk about a tough year? Sniffles had a tough year. His wife left him, he had a triple by-pass..."

An entomological adventure

I hope you've enjoyed our guest posts from Nina, my friend and work colleague. Because here's another.

Nina is also the geek behind the scenes at Lee Sandlin's website, where you can find some great captured moments from the CTA and elsewhere around Chicago.

Thanks Lee and Nina!

We were coming home from our friends' annual "Come as you aren't" Halloween party.

In deference to my entomological interests, I had gone as an exterminator. The Orkin logo, downloaded from the pest-control giant's site and blown up 400%, was on my tan cap and over my heart, covering up "Louis" on a thrift-store appliance-repair guy's shirt. I had wide black belt and clunky black work boots, and to round things out, one of those 1950s-style piston-pump bug sprayers.

At the party, I had cycled relentlessly through a whole repertoire of realistic pest-control lines like "Look lady, you have to get deep in the wall where they nest." But now tired, I was just standing there, trying to ignore the gaggle of loud frat boys in the rear of the car.

Mostly I was admiring another passenger -- a punk kid done up as an arthropod alien. His scrawny body was segmented and belted, his head a tangle of curving, twisting aluminum-foil tendrils. All very detailed.

Suddenly one of the frat drunks saw me. "Hey, Orkin Man, look! Get 'im!" He pointed at the silver xenobug. Obligingly, I came over, aimed, and sprayed.

Alien arthropod boy took his cue. There was a spasm, gyrations, a slow spastic crumble. It took him long, arching silent seconds to hit the train floor, and then he -- it -- lay there, twitching and flailing in final convulsions.

It was a beautiful, magnificent death scene. And, like so many of the best, unrecapturable moments, it was a free, completely anonymous and totally personal subway gift.

A bus primer

Regular readers of this space know that I usually ride the Red Line. One day last week I took the Devon bus to a meeting. So here I present some bus facts gleaned from that new experience:

1. There is a date and time sign inside over the front widnshield. How convenient! The CTA will constantly remind you how late you are because their buses are running late.

2. The bus talks! Every stop is announced. And I mean EVERY stop. Which is like every 100 feet or so, right?

3. The same announcer also plays CTA "commercials" telling folks to call 888-YOUR-CTA for travel info. Hell, he even gives the web address for those with Internet-ready PDAs. Download that bus schedule and see how many minutes off schedule it is.

Hey, all you regular bus riders: Stop laughing at my ignorance!

A visit to the baseball shrine

Approaching the Addison stop going north on the Red Line, a tourist family with southern accents talked excitedly about the things they had been doing on their visit.

They also were lamenting the fact that their seven-day CTA pass was set to expire at 9:28 that evening. But the sight of the national baseball shrine chased away their expiration lamentations.

"Look! There it is! I see the field!" exclaimed Dad.

As they stood to exit at Addison, the 10-year-old with buzz-cut hair spied the gleaming light standards still shining after the game and said, "Thank the good lord they're still open!"

Overheard quickies

Here's another guest post (Hey! A guy's gotta take a break sometime!) from Nina, my friend and work colleague. Nina is also the geek behind the scenes at Lee Sandlin's website, where you can find some great captured moments from the CTA and elsewhere around Chicago.

Thanks Lee and Nina!

I got on the bus, it was somewhere around Merchandise Mart. This was years ago, but it stays with me. There was a guy, ancient as sunlight, sitting in that first seat by the door, deep in conversation with the driver. As I dropped in my fare I heard him saying, "And people die -- they die, they die..."

Another quick moment. The guy talking to himself seemed to be off on a sermon-like reverie. "And they beseeched the Lord at the foot of his throne and cried out to him" he (recounted), his voice rising in narrative fervor. "And God said to them, 'Go to hell.' He said it the way you'd tell someone to bug off. "So they did."

This was on the Rockwell platform on the Ravenswood. "And I never got the letter," she was complaining. "Look, this is Chicago," her companion explained haughtily. "Here, they burn the mail, they lose the mail, and they throw the mail away."

"Unrequited Love on Chicago's Blue Line"

No, it's not what I found.

It's what another guy is looking for. And he's sounding somewhat desperate.

Here's the description of the guy's blog:

"I frequently see beautiful women during my daily commute. I wish I could meet some of them, but the Blue Line commute is not an ideal place for wooing. (sigh!) If I can't meet them, I'll just celebrate the beautiful women I see on the Blue Line in this journal."

Hey, celebrate away. And ladies, be careful out there.

Innovative uses for ketchup

Today we have a guest post from Nina, my friend and work colleague. Nina is also the geek behind the scenes at Lee Sandlin's website, where you can find some great captured moments from the CTA and elsewhere around Chicago.

Thanks Lee and Nina!

People used to ask me if it bothered me to ride the CTA so much. It's full of weirdoes, they said. Well, maybe -- but I think they need to get out more.

When I moved to Chicago in the late 1970s, I had a job on the University of Chicago campus. The el stopped just a couple blocks away at 63rd and Cottage Grove. But everybody -- everybody -- told me not to use it. All the students, faculty and staff were strongly advised to take the Illinois Central commuter train. Being new on the scene, I initially did that, even though it meant changing trains twice and the 7/8 mile walk between the station and my office, and added $1.50 to each trip. And it only ran like once an hour -- at least, when I wanted to take it. And it was blindingly cold inside the cars; and let's not forget how hard those doors were to get open (no, they don't open automatically).

Alright so one hot summer morning I'm sitting there, freezing in my (heat-wave) dress and sandals, trying to read a book, when I feel this sticky, gooey sensation under my right heel. I turn in my seat, and there is a guy on the floor behind me on his hands and knees. He's maybe a little chubby, and he's dressed in ill-fitting clothes for straight people like the kind folks used to get from Sears. And he is squeezing ketchup out of a little packet into my shoe -- right under where the heel was lifted up a little. He has 5-6 more packets with him.

Choice graffiti

Top graffiti of our time, found on the Red Line:

"Happy Xmas Eve. 12/24/01. I'm late for family functions."

Etched into the metal windowsill with something sharp.

Click "Comments" below to add you own favorite graffiti.