My 3rd Rail Tale

Commuting by train can be a time and money saving solution when working in a big city. Chicago has a train system, the Chicago Transit Authority or CTA that moves thousands of people in and out of the city every day. The convenience of using mass transit is balanced with the frustrations that come with it. Train delays, missing trains by just moments, strange commuters, lost personal items, rain, snow, you get the idea. When everything is coexisting in harmony the system works incredibly efficiently, but when something goes astray problems escalate for many commuters and the solutions seem hours away. You got to take the good with the bad. Oh, one more thing. The CTA is an electric train which means there is a third rail on the tracks. It is full of highly charged electricity and it will fry a human.

When we lived and worked in Chicago we took the Red Line from Jarvis Street to the Loop and walked the last stretch to our desks. After time you begin to build a bit of thicker skin. You are no longer surprised by the unsightly sights and sounds that fill all the moments in between on the train.

It was winter time and the commute became even more difficult with the Chicago weather blowing in your face. Public garbage cans on the corners of downtown fill up with broken umbrellas failing under the strain of terrific wind and weather. Turn a corner and slide backwards three feet, that kind of stuff. I was arriving at my Jarvis station, an elevated platform you could reach by climbing two flights of stairs. I only had one block to walk to the station and was amazed at how much snow had fallen overnight and still coming down. I stole a moment for my childhood self and tried to catch some snowflakes in my mouth.

I now stood at the foot of the two flights of stairs and heard the train arrive at the station. I knew, from experience, that I had a fighting chance of making the train, but it would be close. A young lady flew past me and was making better time on the stairs than me. I could see her hit the door at the top of flights with furious effort to make this train about to leave the station. As I pushed the open door moments later I could see her three steps from the closing train door. She ran faster but lost her step sliding on a poorly snow shoveled platform and went down. She spun off the platform and halfway into the closing door. Her purse and briefcase flew into the train. The train door failed to close while banging on her torso. I had my chance now to make the train too. She bought me three seconds. I jumped in and grabbed one arm while another fellow commuter grabbed the other. We lifted her up and the door closed and the train moved.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes, and thanks. I couldn’t miss this train.” She smiled. I knew she was alright.

***

It was summer time. I know it was late in the month because of the new pass I held in my hand. Back in the 1990’s the monthly train passes were selling for about $80. There was always good communication to the train-riding commuters that it was wise to purchase them a week before the new month. I held my new pass in my hand.

I made my way up to the platform and pushed the door open. There was no snow today. It was midsummer and it was hot. No one needed a coat or a jacket. The platform was packed full of city working travelers fussing with their phones and personal items. I wandered through the crowd and found a space that was at the edge of the platform and close to where the train doors typically opened. I set my briefcase down so I could put my brand-spanking new train pass into its proper place in my wallet.

Then it happened.

A sudden cursed wind from above blew the pass out of my hand and down onto the train tracks. It lay there. It moved a little. Some people near me broke concentration at the sight before them. I looked at it. I looked down the tracks. Our train was in sight but quite a ways from us.

There are times in your life when you simply cannot ignore the voice in your head. My voice said, get the train pass Mike. Get it. It’s brand new and worth $80.

I sat down on the platform, a full 40 feet above ground, and lowered myself down. People around me started murmuring and the crowd grew in concern and curiosity. Now, I know that the third electric rail is on the far side of the tracks so I figured I could get my pass without going near the electricity. I looked out and could see the train approaching. I reached down for my pass and it blew forward a bit. I jabbed my foot out and trapped it. I reached again and this time I got it. I could hear the train horn blowing at me.

I pocketed the pass and pulled myself back up. I stood up as the train pulled into the station. People were glaring at me with dismay and contempt. Their thought bubbles were not kind to me.

“What? It’s brand new!” I declared to them in general.

That is my tale of the 3rd rail.

Apparently I feel my life is worth about $80. I cannot deny that anymore.

---

To get email notifications when I publish new stories, just enter your email address below, click “Subscribe” and follow the instructions. Then click Subscribe to make sure you have completed the process.