This is what happens when you kill yourself during rush hour.

I'm not sure if this kind of thing makes it to the national news (it probably depends on how slow the news day is), but Tueday, a woman was hit and killed at the Argyle stop on the Red Line train in Chicago. If you take a look at the route link, you will see that Bryn Mawr (my stop) is 2 stops away from Argyle. This all happened during rush hour.

Meantime, I was innocently on my way home from work. I work in the IL Medical District, which is off the Polk Street station on the Pink Line (keep up with me, now). From Polk, I take the train to the Loop, and transfer at Clark & Lake to the Brown or Purple Line. From there, I go to Fullerton (see Argyle link) and transfer to the Red Line. As you can imagine, a "track emergency" (as it was described by our conductor) would throw a major wrench my commute home. Normally, it takes me almost one full hour to make the trip each way.

What follows is a text conversation between P and I while I was trying to get home. We had plans to go to Trader Joe's for groceries once I got home.

5:22pm D: Am on delayed train.

5:22pm P: Boo

5:23pm D: I would offer to get off at Irving Park, but it is closed. There was an accident at Argyle.

5:26pm D: And there's this douche who won't let anyone sit.

5:38pm D: *called Paul to tell him they kicked everyone off the train at Belmont because of the accident. Went to Clark street to wait for the #22 bus.*

5:47pm D: There are 60 people at this stop.

5:49pm D: And 2 buses have gone by packed.

5:51pm D: Turn on the news and find out. This guy says suicide.

5:54pm D: Hello?!

5:55pm P: Just a G.D. minute.

5:55pm D: Video games, I presume?

5:56pm P: No, betch. Was in bathroom.*

*it is also possible that P was actually playing video games, or just trying to keep up with my lightning-quick texting. It is common knowledge that P is a very slow texter.

5:56pm P: All NBC says is that a ped was struck.

5:57pm D: Good Christ, this is a cluster [bleep].

5:58pm P: Police are investigating.

5:59pm D: There is one bus I can see *packed*

6:00pm P: What about the Brown Line?

6:00pm D: Where would it make sense to take it? Irving Park is closed.

6:01pm P: I don't know.

6:02pm D: ...

6:03pm P: Can you get to Belmont and Ashland?

6:04pm D: *thumbs down* I am in pants.*

*It was very, very hot that day

6:05pm D: People are going in the back door of the bus. It is approaching a mob.

6:07pm D: Numbers of people waiting are dwindling.

6:07pm P: Are you on?

6:07pm D: No.

6:16pm P: Where?

6:17pm D: Still waiting.

6:20pm D: Just on bus.

6:20pm P: Finally.

6:24pm D: No shit.

6:29pm D: Irving Park now.

6:30pm P: Leaving.

6:35pm D: Please pull in Popeyes.

6:36pm P: Duh.

For those keeping score, I left work at 4:30pm. I got to Popeyes at 6:35pm. It took me TWO HOURS to get to this corner, which is still quite a ways from my home. Being delayed home during rush hour brings out the worst in people. I saw things that must be what war is like. A young woman actually pushed an old woman who was trying to board one of the packed buses in front of her. Another woman tried, unsuccessfully, to illegally board a bus from the back door. She was yelled at and flipped off the driver before theatrically exiting the bus. It wasn't pretty. Meantime, the local news had three helicopters circling the scene of the accident. You know, three helicopters that guzzle gas in this era of extremely high gas prices? Yeah. Good times.