Ride The Train

After Riding the commuter train into Chicago each day, I am still amazed at the lack of respect for your fellow humans.  Yes, you know who you are.  You are the one who won’t give up their site for the little old lady with a cane.  You are the one who feels compelled to shout at the cell phone as if the person on the end was strung up to a tin cup.  You are the one who brings on board the greasy, stinky food with the stench of raw onions.  You are the one that forgot to wear some deodorant.  You are the one cheating on your wife / husband or girlfirend / boyfriend with your train romance…talk about riding the rails.  You are the one doesn’t move their bag so you can have the open seat.  You are the one who doesn’t make room for other passengers.  But at the end my 40 minute express journey, I glance out the window and see the log jam of cars on the Kennedy Expressway.  At that moment, I realize why I put up with the pack animals.  **phone rings** “Yes I want the extra large sub with onions to go please”

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