Song for a Crappy Tuesday

You stand in the grey cold of the morning waiting for the bus, grousing over your forgotten umbrella. Three buses have passed you by (One was not in service, the second a training bus and the third a bus that went Express moments before hitting your stop.) Finally, on the horizon, the orange flicker of the route title catches your eye.

It ambles forward, finding its way to every emmer effing stop light along the quarter mile. But what's this? As the rectangular automobile approaches you, it speeds up. It's going to pass you.

Your face fills with blood. You know what's going on here. It's always you. IT'S ALWAYS YOU. The Chicago Transit Authority is out to get you. You've known it from the start.

The bus gains momentum, but the light at your corner shifts suddenly to yellow and then to red. There is a loud screech as the bus halts, and all standing passengers tumble to the floor inside. You hear their faint cries and "I am so sorrys".

You have to knock on the bus door for it to open. They flip outward and you step in leering at Mid-April Tuesday driving the bus.

He leers back.

You grip one of the rubber nooses meant for standing riders. The light turns to green.

On your ride to work, you hit every stop light into town. Mid-April Tuesday looks your each time... a slight smug curl on his lips.

Yeah. The CTA is out to get you. You knew it.


And yet I can't help but smile when I hear this: