Transit-bound in Chicago

I spent four days in Chicago last weekend during the most gorgeous run of weather I've ever witnessed there. One goal was to chronicle my experiences with transit in the third-largest city in the U.S.

I took some swell transit photos. An abundance of photos. Probably way too many photos. I was pumped about using some of them in my blog post, but life has a way of sucker punching you when you're not expecting it. The day after I got back from Chicago, someone broke into my apartment and stole my laptop and digital camera. Hence, no photos to share.

So instead of writing specifically about things I wanted to show you in pictures, I'm just going to share a few observations and a story.

Obviously Chicago is waaaaaay bigger than Kansas City. No legitimate comparison between the two. But that doesn't mean we can't strive for real transportation options here. While in Chicago, I walked a ton, took a number of taxis, rode the bus, hopped on the train, and may have done some cycling as well if there had been an opportunity. (Oh, and caught a few rides in actual cars. Yawn.) The point is that I had choices. I could navigate the system. I felt empowered. It was great.

Why can we not fathom doing anything other than driving alone everywhere we go in Kansas City? Why don't we agitate for more?

All kinds of people use transit in Chicago. Rich people, poor people, commuters, tourists, all ethnicities, old people, young people. I saw folks with wheelchairs and walking canes, and folks with strollers and fold-up shopping carts. Some were herding small children, others had luggage, and others were carting bikes. All hours of the day. All those people make transit work for them. Likewise, they adjust their lives to accommodate different ways of getting where they need to go.

People do a bewildering variety of things on trains and buses. They read and flip through magazines. They fill out crossword puzzles. They doze (I myself am easily lulled to sleep by large, swaying vehicles). They talk on the phone for personal and professional reasons. They listen to mp3 players. They chat with the people around them. They do work. I sure as heck don't want to be at the wheel in a city like Chicago. Leave the driving to someone else!

Pickpocketer on the 66-Chicago

On my last day in the Windy City, I was returning from a history museum, riding a westbound, jam-packed 66-Chicago bus, where I was very nearly pickpocketed.

This bus was so full of people, there wasn't even any standing room left. We're talking elbow to elbow. It was a challenge to hold onto the overhead straps while also keeping my large purse under control. I was certain that I would broadside a seated elderly person in the face.

At one point, a woman at the front of the bus looked in my direction and hollered, "Lady, watch out, that man behind you has his hand in your bag. He's trying to pickpocket you!"

What does one do? There's nowhere to go, no seat to move to. I clutched my oversized purse tighter and didn't turn around to face the guy. (Should I turn around? Should I have confronted him?)

The other passengers started to get agitated, and the woman told the bus driver what was happening. He made an announcement. "Attention everyone. There is a pickpocketer on this bus. Watch your bags and belongings! There is a pickpocketer on this bus!" Then other passengers started harrassing the would-be pickpocketer and shouted at him to get off the bus. "You have to leave this bus now!," they snarled. Pretty quickly the bus driver slowed to a halt, and the guy was kicked off the bus, cursing at all of us as he threaded his way to the door.

Nothing like mass social scorn to move the needle.

A chatty, wheelchair-bound passenger (named Fettie, he said: "like Reggie, but with an F and no Gs") told me to check and make sure nothing was taken from my bag. I looked. Nothing was gone.

I was so thankful that there were some keen eyes on that bus. Did I learn a lesson? (Yes, quit carrying such a large, open purse!) And stay observant about my belongings. Nevertheless, a sense of comeraderie flooded me. I wasn't completely alone in a vast, unfamiliar city. People do sometimes watch out for each other. Nothing closes the distance between strangers faster.

Of course, following that near pickpocket experience in Chicago, I return to placid Kansas City, where my apartment is promptly burglarized. And my bus passes were part of the loot.