Double whammy of CTA wierdness
Here's a guest post from Kelly. Thanks for sharing, Kelly!
I honestly think the universe or God or whatever sends us strong signals when we should not be out. And while my friend could probably tell this story much better than I, I've got the free time and don't feel like working at the moment.
My friend and I both take the Red Line (by the way, notice how most of these stories are about the Red?) to and from work and try to avoid it during the weekends if possible. One Saturday evening, however, we decided to go see a play together.
We had recently been talking about men who use the train as an opportunity to flash their naughty bits to unsuspecting young women, and the subject was still fresh (ew) in our minds. Lo and behold, within 5 minutes of boarding the train, we notice a hooded figure across the aisle. . . wrist in lap shaking rhythmically . . . eyes under the hood aimed lazily in our direction. Because we've been friends long enough to communicate without words, we both looked at each other with the universal "our fucking luck" look.
A note to any guy who thinks this might turn women on in the slightest: it doesn't. We get off the train, encounter a lot of problems before and after the play that unfortunately have nothing to do with the CTA, and then re-board around 10:30. As we are standing (no seats) in a corner, laughing about how completely horrible the evening has been and how we should have stayed home, we are each slapped in the face with the overwhelming scent ... of urine.
Yes, the down-and-out gentleman sitting near us just relieved himself in his pants. Not that the Red doesn't always reek of some bodily fluid, but it's usually a few days old at least.