My coveted seat is to the left of the driver’s compartment and its window looks forward onto the tracks. For some perverse reason the designers placed this seat facing into the train. This means if anyone older than ten sits there they will get a stiff neck twisting to look out the window. Not that that stops anyone.
On the Brown Line the seat’s vantage point is especially fun because of all the twist and turns it takes on its trip from Kimball to Clark/Lake and back. Of course, when travelling south, the best part begins after the Merchandise Mart station when the train crosses the Chicago River and enters The Loop. The Brown Line’s course (or as it was known when I was a kid, the Ravenswood) would make a great Formula 1 racecourse.
Our now northbound train stopped at Southport, one of the twenty-seven stations served by this noisy squealing train. The doors opened and with it, a cold rush of air swept in two young boys with their mother in tow. In tandem, their voices rose to a falsetto as they sprinted to the seat despite it being occupied.
Their mother’s urging to slow down went unheeded. Joy emanated from their voices as they sped towards it and him. He immediately recognized his predicament. With a vigor that belied his age, he grabbed his briefcase and vacated the seat just as the boy’s knees landed on the thinly padded fiberglass.
The doors closed as their noses connected to the cold window just in time to witness the train’s departure. She looked at the man with a face that begged a combination of understanding and forgiveness. He smiled a knowing smile as he organized his kit and detrained a few stop later. I watched the boys transfixed by the speed, motion, and noise that only a train can make as it careens down the tracks.
The above incident reminded me of riding in the same seat with my young mother. The two of us were frequent travellers to and from the Loop. We would leave early Saturday morning and be back home for lunch. I would do my best to follow my energetic mother as she did her errands: Merle Norman for cosmetics, Stop and Shop for food, the mysterious safety deposit box for who knows what, and Marshall Fields just because it was Marshall Fields.
I also remember roasted Spanish peanuts and chocolate covered strawberries, grilled cheese sandwiches and Frango Mint ice cream, and a few small Matchbox cars and trains that I was occasionally gifted with. Every time I ride, please forgive the reminiscence, the Ravenswood train these memories are not far back in my consciousness. I still covet that seat . . . I do!
January 2018
