Why I Hate the Montrose Bus (1/13/09)

It's no secret that I detest the #78 bus, and my excursion today is a perfect example of how this bus route represents the Chicago Transit System at it's worst. I was determined not to wait 20-30 minutes at the bus stop like I normally seem to do (which is strange, since the signs claim that buses run every 7-15 minutes during the day, and I rarely just miss the bus) especially not in single-digit temperatures, so I went online and used the CTA's bus tracker application. I left my home 10 minutes before the next bus was estimated to arrive, which gave me more than enough time to trudge through the snow to the bus stop one block away.

I arrived at the stop with minutes to spare, and watched a westbound bus go by. Ten minutes pass. My snot freezes as I watch a second westbound bus go by. After another ten minutes I start bouncing around, trying to keep the blood circulating in my feet, which got me little more than an appreciative honk from some guys in a delivery truck. Still no eastbound bus. Five minutes later, some guy pushing a shopping cart through the sludge in the street walks past and tells me that the bus is coming. Hallelujah! The eastbound bus finally rolls up and wheezes to a stop. The doors open, but along with the rush of warm air comes a tinny recording of Kenny G's latest holiday CD. I've been waiting all this time for THE CHRISTMAS EXPRESS.

Either this bus was running REALLY late, or I somehow wound up back in December 2008! The handrails were striped with red and white tape and made to look like candy canes, stacks of fake presents cluttered the space where people normally put their bags, wrapping paper covered all the ad posters, and the garland hanging from the windows was replete with blinking multi-colored lights. What might have seemed like a fun and even festive ride a month ago was just a garish and awful experience. I mean, the twelfth day of Christmas came and went last week-- LAST WEEK, people! But looking at the other passengers, you'd never know anything was out of the ordinary-- they just maintained the glazed stare that public transit riders have perfected so well-- no one watches anything in particular, they just make sure not to look at or acknowledge each other. Santa himself could have been sleeping in the back of the bus, and people would still be calmly looking through each other with that empty, unfocused gaze.

The bus ride couldn't end soon enough. I sprinted off the nightmarish bus of Christmas past and hopped onto the blissfully unfestive red line train (almost welcoming the familiar scent of stale urine), which I took to the Argyle stop. The worst part of my trip was when I came face to face with three pig carcasses while I was waiting at the crosswalk-- their bulging eyes foggy with death and their mouths frozen open, no doubt from the screams they uttered just before they were slaughtered. Some delivery guy was carrying them into a restaurant where I had eaten just days before-- I scrambled out of his way and into a deep snowbank, narrowly missing a snout to the forehead. While I realize that really has nothing to do with the CTA, I'm still choosing to blame that near miss on Santa's (very belated) express, because if it had come a half hour earlier (like it was supposed to) I wouldn't have been anywhere near Broadway and Argyle when that delivery guy was unloading Noah's Ark of Death. And THAT is why I hate the Montrose bus.