Broadcasting Live from the Red Line!

I often feel left behind in this era of technology.  Hoards of fellow train riders carrying on like peacocks, displaying their colorful and nifty gizmos and gadgets; at times it can feel quite lonely to have nothing but a cell phone.  It made me wonder a bit, about how social interactions would change say, if more media outlets were embedded into the actual train.  Phone and internet service providers have already breached the subterranean barrier, enabling consumers to use their phones and laptops in the subway without interruption of service. And advertisers are ever clever in finding ways to follow you underground and all around on trains and busses.  But what about other media outlets?  A lot of times, I turn my television on to watch the morning news and get caught up in the latest breaking story just as I’m heading out the door to catch my train.  I admit I get a little vexed having to turn it off mid-story lest I risk missing my ride. So, what if we could pick up our news story on the train?  What about installing news feed tickers to keep us abreast of all things Chicago!

                          

Or, it’d be pretty spectacular to have a 40 inch HD flat screen embedded [to prevent vandalism] into the wall of a train car, streaming live local news, weather and sports broadcasts.  At first I thought it might be fun to have conductors themselves double as newscasters but, given the horrid quality of the trains PA system, that would likely drive folks to madness trying to decipher everything. But even something akin to the Channel One broadcasts shown in high school homerooms around the country could be fairly interesting.

Another idea could be to turn the head car into a soundproof broadcasting studio and have live radio hosts or news anchors do their morning rush hour routines from there while at night, after rush hour, local DJs could inhabit the booth and pump the latest jams into each car, taking requests from passengers via a special Twitter App for Chicago L train riders...I guess though that’s the whole reason peeps have smartphones, laptops, & iPods, so they can have access to more than just local news, and can be their own DJs.  But something about incorporating mass media into the mass transit experience still seems novel – especially to tech-tarded old fogies like me.

Though, if they’ve got TVs on trains in parts of Asia and in NYC, I guess I’ll be writing a letter to Da Next Mayor. Who wants to sign my petition!

Movin on up!

“No nation can enslave a race of people for hundreds of years, set them free bedraggled and penniless, pit them, without assistance in a hostile environment, against privileged victimizers, and then reasonably expect the gap between the heirs of two groups to narrow.  Lines, begun parallel and left alone, can never touch.”
-- Randall Robinson



Chicago's racial-ethnic composition (as of 2010)



 In a recent discussion with fellow students, a classmate of mine speculated on the fact that, for being a large and very ethnically diverse city, Chicago is still highly segregated along racial lines.  Sadly, this reality has long marred Chicago’s history and in many ways has crippled its progress into the future by holding certain groups hostage, socially and economically.  It shocks many to learn that a substantial portion of Chicago’s residents have lived their entire lives without ever having been downtown.

               

In a city of roughly 3 million, one third, or 1 million, residents are Black and yet in all its history, Chicago only boasts 4 Black-owned banks, and even fewer Black-owned businesses generating revenues of $1M or more.  There are too many contributing factors to discuss in one simple blog post, from Chicago’s history of practicing redlining and restrictive covenants, to its political turmoil plagued by ongoing racism and corruption.  As this Midwestern metropolis embarks on the rocky road towards electing a new mayor, reflections on Chicago’s racial and ethnic divides continue to cross my mind, most especially when I find myself on public transit.

It’s been a lifetime (24 years) since Chicago’s only elected African American mayor, the Honorable Harold L. Washington, successfully bridged social, economic and racial divides to bring Chicagoans together for the collective good.  Yet much remains to be seen from the pool of current candidates, who can bring about a sense of unity that is needed to overcome the deep wounds of a segregated and disjointed community.

Gentrification plays a title role in this quagmire as well, and nowhere is that more evident than on the L train.  I remember living on the NW side a decade ago and having to ride the Blue line from Logan Square to downtown.  Back then the platform was full of mainly brown faces mixed in with a handful of ethnic eastern European folks.  I’d sometimes get little old ladies, presumably feeling nervous in a sea of Latino bodies, coming up to me and asking me something in Polish, mistakenly thinking me a kinswoman. Over the years, I watched the make up of that platform change precipitously from a smattering of Artsy peoples – you know, the kind of 20-something Caucasian who wears earlobe spacers, majors in Fiber & Material Studies at the School of the Art Institute while moonlighting as a bicycle courier, and shares a 4^th floor vintage walk up with a Rastafarian and a Buddhist monk – to a surplus of Yuppie-9 to 5-investment banking types.

Not a decade’s passed since my own “back in the day” (let alone my parents’) when the only pale face the Logan Square Blue Line saw was mine.  Gentrification can take place anywhere, and at alarming rates.  It’s mesmerizing to see places like historic Cabrini Green virtually transform before your eyes from notoriously dangerous housing projects to condos and townhouses valued at half a million dollars.  Yet as places like Logan Square and Humboldt Park, once predominantly Latino, become increasingly gentrified, the far West and South sides of the city that are predominantly Black remain largely untouched and therefore extremely segregated.  One ride on my lovely Red Line and you’ll marvel at the stark contrasts seen from the train window.  As you travel further south of Downtown, the number of white faces drops to almost zero after Sox-35th, home of US Cellular Field (aka the Chicago White Sox’s Comiskey Park).

But what does this all translate to us on a literal level.  As Randall Robinson tells us in the quote at the beginning of this blog, simply put, we can’t expect a change to come without an outright action and effort on our part.  It took America hundreds of years to abolish slavery, at least from a legal standpoint, but the underlying racism and classism still thrive like parasites in every corner of our great nation, greatly impacting how we socialize on a day to day basis.  Given the centuries it took to create this disparity, who knows how long it will take to reverse and recuperate.  One thing’s for sure, whoever Chicago’s next mayor is will have to wrestle with this city’s elephant in the room and would do wise to take a few pages from Newark, NJ Mayor Cory Booker’s philosophy on responsibility and change through personal action and involvement.  Maybe then will Chicago see a few new train lines going through the vastly underserved West and Far South sides.

Do you see what I see?

Any of you play peek-a-boo with a little kid?  No one can really pin point why, without fail, it makes babies squeal with laughter for hours on end.  And even fewer people can argue convincingly who has more fun, the adult or the child.

One such cherub struck up a game of P.A.B. with me on the train tonight.  I caught him starting at me, with a curious little half-grin on his face, almost as if to say, “you game?”  When our eyes locked, and my lips turned up ever so slightly, he had his answer and jerked his face to the side, covering it with his pudgy little baby-fat hands.  We dueled for what seemed like minutes, but was probably a few seconds, before his mom thumped him over his adorable little head, flattening the crown of his mini afro.  He giggled.

Innocence is a beautiful thing; raw, untamed energy and unabashed self-centeredness.   Cuteness certainly merits plenty of attention when you’re tiny and teething.  However, if you ever try playing P.A.B. with another adult, you’re likely to get a contorted facial expression, much like the expression one gets after sniffing a putrid odor. 

We all spend copious amounts of time trying to get attention, yet when we do, when strangers unintentionally make eye contact, we suddenly get stage fright…Abort! Abort!  Why is it the social norm, the unwritten rule, to avoid eye contact with strangers?  In all my people watching I’ve found it rare for strangers to meet eyes and offer a friendly smile.  I tried it myself, with difficulty I might add, and the majority are unresponsive, if not noticeably uncomfortable.  On the even rarer occasion when I’ve found someone actually starring at me I’ve hastily averted my own eyes.

We humans do so much to get others’ attention, from the way we dress and talk to the way we move about, fraternize with others and posing for pictures.  But when we aren’t making deliberate, conscious efforts to attract attention, yet still get it, we don’t know how the heck to respond.

Next time you’re at an airport waiting for a flight, or on a bus or train, take a look around.  TRY to catch someone’s gaze.  Or even better, next time you’re in a crowded elevator, turn around so your back faces the door, say nothing but just look other passengers in the eye.

What do you see?  Why is it soooo….aaaaawk-waaaard!



Do you hear what I hear?

Tonight was a very rare night - I had a somewhat out of body experience.  Well, it was more like an out of mouth experience.  Now before your mind goes off in all kind of directions, indulge me as I recount this most hilarious encounter.

So I’m headed home on my lovely Red Line when several stops after I board, two young ladies alight the train.  I heard them coming before I saw them as they were engaged in what sounded like a heated venting session about a third party.  Tired from a long and busy day at work, I was initially really annoyed by the girls’ earsplitting prattle.  Since their volume was impeding my progress in doing just about everything else, I eventually started eavesdropping consciously, with both ears.  Here’s what happened next:

Jilted Girl to Vigilante BFF: He tolt me he was thru wit dat hoe a month ago! I can’t buhleave he got the nerve to show up wit her. He knew I was gone be there. Like, oh ma god girl, how he gone do dat!? Girl I was gone f--- her up! He is MY man!!!

Vigilante BFF to Jilted Girl: Oooooo girl…I KNOW he di-int! We gone git him girl.

At this point I was oddly intrigued by how sad it was to hear a young woman waste her precious breath (and time) on a man who clearly had no intention of making her a permanent fixture in his life…and I also felt the urge to pray fervently for a magical remote control to mute this debacle of a side show.  That prayer went unanswered, so I kept listening…

                Jilted Girl to BFF (shaking her head): and come to find out he got that b---- pregnant!!!

                BFF to Jiltee (suddenly inhales with eyes wide): OOOOOOO GIRL SHUT UP NO HE DI-INT!!!

The train pulled into my station, the doors opened, and just at that moment I succumbed to a most unusual and violent urge, opened my mouth and blurted out: Oh YES he did guuuurrrlll!!!  then bolted out the door as it closed.  I have to admit I cracked up pretty bad and in my haste barely made it up all the stairs without tripping.

I guess I just couldn’t take it anymore.  I was just so tired of rude passengers always forcing me to listing to their crazy music and their onerous conversations I no longer viewed it as rude to chime in.  I didn’t want to be part of their tragically lame discourse but I couldn’t really pull myself away it was so hilariously entertaining.

Word to the wise: if you talk loud enough for everyone to hear, expect a response from anyone.

Word to the wiser: take heed when you chime in, it could be dangerous!

In the words of Bon Qui Qui: Don’t interrupt. Rude!

Plugged In - Tuned Out

If someone had taken a poll in 2009, or even simply asked for a show of hands, of who owned an iPod, I would not be one of the masses counted.  Although I’m a Marketing major, I’m the epitome of a Laggard, at least when it comes to all things technology related. I really dislike the term Laggard, mostly because I think it makes me seem lazy…and because it rhymes, sort of, with the word braggart, which I am most certainly not the epitome of…

Anyway, my Laggard-ness in the realm of technophilia doesn’t mean I am a troglodyte incapable of deciphering gadgets. In fact, I really like gadgets!  I just always seem to spend my money elsewhere first, never quite mused enough with iPods or iPads or Kindles or Crackberries to consider transitioning into the Early Adopters species (or even the Early Majority for that matter).

Though I finally do own an iPod nano, I still can’t quite jump on the technology bandwagon and bring myself to buy anything else. I think I’m subconsciously fighting the techy vortex ***NO! NOOO! I DON’T WANNA DRINK THE KOOL-AID!!***.  The idea of being so plugged in that I’m actually tuned out of everything else around me is a bit frightening.  It’s ironic to think that plugging in to all these devices that are supposed to keep us connected actually unplugs us from the real world, but it’s true.  Just unplug yourself long enough to take a look around and you’ll see what I mean.

For example, I’ve lost count of how many people I’ve seen on the train, iPod earphones blasting, Crackberry in one hand, iPad in the other, oversized messenger bag slung behind them, stuffed with workout gear, Kindle and netbook.  They’re all so busy minding their business they have no idea that they’re spilling coffee on the guy sitting in front of them, they’ve blocked the aisle so other passengers are now having difficulty getting by and they are simultaneously infringing on the personal space of the rider in the seat behind them as their übertrendy bag swings back and forth while they attempt to steady themselves without griping a hand rail. 

These are the same folks that think you’re trying to rob them if you get frustrated enough to finally push their giant bag out of your face when you’ve had enough of their rudeness; the same folks who, because they’re too involved in their own off-beat rendition of Blue by Eiffel 65, don’t hear the conductor squawk about a mechanical malfunction causing a delay and they stamp their feet and curse profusely and start exhaling loudly about being late for their “really important life”.

Much about that whole picture makes my face twitch in aggravation and I think about it every time I consider buying a Nook or Crackberry.  I just can’t bring myself to plug in and tune out. 

Yeah…Courtesy – there’s no Ap for that!

Color Coded

I remember when, in 2006, the Chicago Transit Authority conducted a survey of sorts to pick a name for a new branch of the L they were putting into service.  Chicago school kids were solicited to submit recommendations for the new branch, and of the top three they submitted (silver, gold and pink), Pink was chosen by the CTA powers-that-be as the moniker for the new line.

Looking around Chicago at this time of year is overwhelmingly dismal, at least from a color perspective.  We’re surrounded by every possible shade of gray and black and white. People are bundled up beyond recognition in their black North Face puffers, gray wool peacoats, and brown fur coats. Boots and bags, hats and gloves and scarves, all marvelously monochromatic…it’s enough to insight temporary hypnosis.

I wonder what the significance is behind the color code system for the trains.  Do these colors represent our collective opinion of certain neighborhoods the trains bisect? Given the rainbow array currently used to represent the L network, are we subliminally (or intentionally, take your pick) giving a solidarity shout-out to the LGBT community at large? Naming a train the Black Line or the White Line is obviously potentially controversial, though, interestingly, the Brown Line seemed to be race-neutral or just ambiguous enough not to overtly offend anyone…

If I were the President of the CTA, I think I’d prefer to give the school kids several options to vote on.  I’d make it a learning experience by making a list of colors they’d never heard of so they’d have to look them up.  A-some-a-thing-a-like-dís: chartreuse, ochre, periwinkle, topaz, phlox, heliotrope, onyx, amaranth, lapis and even khaki!

I don’t know about you, but none of those colors were in MY Crayola box growing up.  We can hardly fault our youngins for not picking something with a bit more panache.  But I can guarantee you I’d walk a little taller if I were the kid responsible for naming a train line chartreuse!



Snowpocalypse



Today brought me the first snow day I’ve experienced since 1999.  It’s simultaneously exciting and eerie.  Chicago news reporters have been covering snowmageddon 2011 and her aftermath for over 24 hours now.  A myriad of cars and public busses remain parked, stranded and abandoned to be more accurate, on LSD (Lake Shore Drive – a main thoroughfare bypassing downtown Chicago and buttressing Lake Michigan for about 16 miles).  It almost resembled a scene from The Day After Tomorrow.

Since I wasn’t around to experience the blizzard of  ’67, I’ll let you decide which snowpocalypse was worse…

THEN...

NOW...

I was thankful not to have to go to work today, especially considering how much of a ghost town the downtown area had turned into and how potentially risky relying on public transit could be.  Richard Rodriguez, president of CTA (Chicago Transit Authority), gave an optimistic analysis of the state of the L train system today when he participated in a press conference with other representatives from da Mayor’s office, ComEd and the Chicago Fire Dept.  He mentioned that only the Yellow line had been shut down due to the fact that it’s “at grade,” or regular ground level and therefore difficult to keep the tracks clear of snow and ice.  Otherwise he said, that trains were still functioning with very minimal delays and that the CTA was still prepping to handle normal rush hour traffic come Thursday morning.  Well, kudos to him but I remain quite skeptical.

Personally, I think in situations like this, however rare they occur, alternative and creative methods of public transportation should be explored and considered.  For example, why not purchase a fleet of supped-up snowmobiles that can be equipped with sled carriages to accommodate a dozen passengers. Or, maybe construct a giant network of ski lifts atop the existing L train lines? Or, perhaps contract the city’s thousands of dog owners to transport folks using tons of dog sleds (mush!)? Or, how about horse-draw trolley cars, a modified version of this 1965 model?



Though, I’m not sure the Chicagoland area has enough Clydesdales and draft horses to handle hundreds of thousands of stereotypically impatience commuters. Hmmm…what are your thoughts on alternatives? How does your city handle inclement weather snafus?