Thursday, August 25, 2005

Humanitarian Aid from New Zealand

Don't even get me started about last night's commute. Just please don't even ask.

Okay, fine. Here's the short form:
  1. Worked late.
  2. Fire on train tracks south of Evanston.
  3. Trains stopped running.
  4. Transit Authority staff completely unable to offer any prognosis on restoration of service. Nobody is telling them anything. And they can't find out anything on their own.
  5. Restoration of service announcement ("a train will be arriving momentarily") followed by an hour of no trains. Staff contradicts announcements. Say they don't know where trains are, if they're running, when they might arrive. One says for all he knows, trains might be stopped all night. Also says they cannot call or otherwise contact anyone to find out anything.
  6. After almost two hours of this, broke down and paid for cab home.
  7. Cab stuck in traffic due to #%!$@ Cubs baseball game in my neighborhood.
I had my knitting, thank God, but there are occasions when even knitting will barely pull you through.

Regarding point number four, I would like to say I find it amazing that my father can pinpoint the location of his Toyota to within seven feet anywhere on planet Earth using a GPS, but the Chicago Transit Authority is unable to communicate to the Davis Street Station attendant where any of the Purple Line trains might happen to have gone to.

Should you ever find yourself on the Chicago "El" with a question, don't ask a CTA employee. Just talk to the wall. It will be able to offer you better service, more politely.

Given all this, it was mighty nice to arrive home and find a little package from Kiwi James in my mailbox, along with the usual cheap 'n' naughty lingerie catalogues that show up by the dozens thanks to the apparent slut who formerly lived at my address.

I opened the package and the most heavenly scent of tangerine came wafting out. Inside: wonderful New Zealand tangerine chocolates, and a little basket of scented soap and lotion, and a note saying I have to share it all with C.

C is lucky I'm so fond of him or the chocolate would be only a memory by now.

I now have this image of New Zealand as an island paradise that smells like tangerines.

James, honey, watch your mailbox. I promise I haven't sent you anything that smells like Chicago.

I'm beginning to daydream about running away to Morehouse Farm to seek a new life as a shepherd.

(You think I'm kidding?)

Pic du Jour

Madonnas. Just a wee small part of my grandmother's collection, from the top of her bureau.

Madonnas on My Grandmother's Bureau, 2004

P.S. She's Catholic.

14 comments:

Felicia said...

The best part- you made it home safe.

Not only is C happy you made it home safe, the rest of us in blogland are, too.

I love the Madonnas. Can we see them in bunny hats? :O)

markknitz said...

wow, i thought that shite only happened in new york. it always amazes me how f'd up the trains get in a RAIN storm. (like this has never happened before). welcome home!

Jon said...

Sorry your train broke down. I guess now's not a good time to remind you that my commute is 10 min, 15 tops in the evening.

xoxoxo

goblinbox said...

ROAKs always seem to come on the right day, don't they! It's as if they had some little magic of their own.

Nik said...

I certainly do not miss the rudeness of the "El" Station employees.

I'm originally from chicago and now live in the country. i.e., Raleigh, NC.

Calvin said...

I'm sorry you had to deal with all that. We don't have a mass transit here in Columbia other than a large bus system (which I don't use). It sure would make getting around here a lot easier and lessen the road rage you feel dealing with all the traffic, especially during the summer when it feels like 250 degrees with the humidity added in. Isn't Kiwi James once of the sweetest persons one could know. By the way, who was the gay porn star you guys saw in NY?

Carol said...

Did your grandmother ever do that classy thing where you paint the inside of an old bathtub blue, then sink it into the ground vertically, halfway, to make a lervely shrine?

Or am I betraying my coal-country roots?

Carol said...

Oh God, what idiotic spammers. This blog IS amazing, but that has nothing to do with helping out Mr. Ogabe Punjabe the respected physician in Nigeria. You're gonna have to switch to no anonymous comments. Sheesh.

Somewhere Else said...

Yes, Franklin, a lot of NZ does smell like tangerines. Especially the parts that don't smell like ocean or sheep!! Or, in Rotorua, like semi-rotten eggs due to the fragility of Earth's skin. It is the most beautiful country: 30 million sheep, 3 million people.

dragon knitter said...

here's a website for ya. and yes, this addy is right. wvs.topleftpixel.com . it's a daily photo blog, and his pictures really rock. gotta go check it out. sorry to hear about your train dilemma. but please, please, don't cuss my cubbies. they try hard. and as for your grandmother being catholic, even though i know you're sicilian, i kept thinking you were jewish. go figure

amysue said...

Oh I love those madonnas! I'm thouroughly Jewish, but also love this kind of thing and am telling myself that the kids would be confused if a shelf of them appeared somewhere in the house...Lucky you!

Anonymous said...

I love the madonna on the right. Her eyebrows are so Garbo!
/Monika

Knit Chick said...

The "El" sucks when something goes wrong. I love how they announce things on the speakers & it sounds like they are talking through a dishcloth with the lovely sounds of static to accompany it.

Re: your grandmother's shrine... Looks similar to my mother's minus the baby Jesus & the votive candles.

Trina said...

Come to New Zealand! Surely there's a drug out there that will put you to sleep at the start of the flight, so you wake up in NZ and miss the scary part!!