But I have to tell you, as much as I won't miss the commute, I might miss some of the characters on the train. It's five improv (not for children) performances a week, Monday through Friday, starting promptly at 4:55. Get there early so you can get a good seat.
As creatures of habit, regular commuters tend to find a particular car and ride in it every time, creating a melting pot of personalities --
-black, white, tan
-gay, straight, indifferent, homophobic, closeted,
-lawyers, waitresses, cubicle drones,
-old, young, new --
Take all of these ingredients, add alcohol, train delays, out-of-order restrooms, unreliable HVAC, and frequent light-hearted and sometimes filthy insults.
Pour into tight quarters on the upper gallery of a Chicago car.
Sprinkle the mix with unsuspecting, infrequent commuters who sit down below--
- the occasional tee-totaller who glares at the freely-passed bottles of beer or liquor
- the woman who thought she'd sleep all the way home