Monday, November 9, 2009


Sorry I was gone yesterday, I had pageant junk all weekend, and one of the most horrifying experiences of my life on's the story.

It was a beautiful day in the Chicago suburbs this past Sunday and the people were scurrying around the station. Armed with a gently used Walmart suitcase and a WIU embroidered purse, I waited patiently for the 2:10 Metra to arrive in the station. Navy couples had said their farewells and women jerked their children away from the yellow line. The train pulled up quickly, screaming as it passed. My sister Erin trotted behind with pageant bags swinging past the bodies of the dean pan passengers. There was a disturbing odor of beer and regret as we eyed the cart looking for a seat. As we attempted to seat ourselves, Erin was then overtaken by an unseen force and her head was thrown into the overhang. As she slumped into her seat in excrutiating pain, a tall man in uniform screamed at me to keep my luggage out of the aisle.

It was then that we looked to our left to see a poorly tattooed man rocking slowly back and forth and breathing heavily. He had an Icehouse beer gripped desperately to his hands and he spent most of the ride singing to himself and staring at my chest. The two of us attempted to block out the stalking man by listening to iPods, but it was useless. He pulled out two cans of beer and held them out to us. With his eyes hopelessly fixated on my clevage, he held out his tattooed fingers and said "Care to join me?" We politely declined and the man became en ranged. He began leaning closer, and closer; so close that we could smell the alcohol on his breath and the Febreeze shower he had doused himself in before the train. He said "You will regret this", and began singing loudly to himself. We impatiently awaited the stop in Chicago while the man towered over us. That's when the phone calls began. "Give Peace A Chance" began twirling around us in the most horrific manner possible...34 consecutive times. Erin began frantically ignoring the phone calls but they wouldn't stop. An unknown number kept calling, and calling, and calling, and calling. Finally, they stopped. It was then that her phone was swarmed with threatening text messages that promised destruction and pain.

When the train finally pulled in, the two of us found ourselves running to the plaza. The air was thick, and a boatfull of men with suits drifted slowly down the river. It was then that the power of the man on the train overtook us. We became posessed and our faces began to deform uncontrollably. My eyes began to look cross and Erin's face began to stretch. It was only until a man without shoes placed his hands over us and screamed to Jesus that we were finally put back in our right places.

A few hours passed until I had to trek my way through the empty tracks to the other station. Lights flickered as rats scurried past and a man without teeth began speaking the gospel from underneath his newspaper hat. I found my seat on the train, placed my headphones in, and closed my eyes. It was then that he sat next to me. Standing at about 6'4 and a size of no less than 300 pounds, he placed his hand over his Bears jersey and asked "Can I sit with you, pretty lady?" I nodded my head yes as it was a sold out train and I really didn't have another option. The man REEKED of barbecue sauce and Bud Light. As the train pulled out, the tapping began. The man would tap his sausage fingers on the chair, on the arm rest, on the tray table, and on my knee. He grinned behind his red stained goatee and yellow teeth. I tried my best to squeeze next to the window, but it was useless. The barbecue scent overtook me, and I fell faint. It wasn't until I was 2 minutes from my destination that I awoke. The man had put his hand once again on my knee and exclaimed he was going to the cafe cart and I was more than welcome to join him. I politely declined and he drunkenly stumbled away, attempting to hold my hand in the process.


4 comment(s):

The Igloo Keeper said...

I think I might have been the first guy. Sorry about that.

Pax Romano said...

Still a better story than the Midnight Meat Train.

CSY said...

Yeah, a guy who stank of beer staring at my clevage is NOT something I'd enjoy...wait a minute...ok, a CREEPY guy who stank of beer looking at my clevage is not something I'd enjoy...

Erin said...

Best. Entry. EVER.

P.S. "My sister Erin," :)

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