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T h e A d v e n t u r e s o f C h i c a g o J o

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What I Love About the El

2003-02-28� � 5:12 p.m.
Three weeks ago, el was a pronoun preceding various Spanish words of importance to Texans: el bano, el papel para mi culo, el dopa, el agua.

No, not �el tequila�. That�s �la tequila� en espanol. But I digress...

I originally called the system �the tube� after my stint in London, riding it for the first time. Then two weeks in NYC changed that to �the subway�. But after the locals heckling me a bit on my inconsistency, I�ve come around to now calling it �the el�.

When in Rome, right?

There is very little I love more than riding the el. For only $1.50 I can get anywhere in a matter of minutes, it�s heated, and it�s wonderful for people watching and seeing the city.

The other day I was on my way to my kick-ass interview and I passed a Catholic school. Overlooking the soccer field, painted on the school�s wall was the pope�s face. Only this wasn�t a regular nice-pope face, this was Robin Williams dressed like the pope. And don�t think of the nice Robin Williams either -- think of Death to Smoochy Robin Williams. Scary, scary pope face.

What�s the deal with that? Are you supposed to score a goal and then salute the pope or something?

For that reason, I never understood effigies. I certainly don�t understand how having a big, red, Robin Williams-looking pope on the side of one�s five-story school is supposed to arouse feelings of Catholic-ness.

Nonetheless, it�s there; and it appears that it is there for the el riders to see. If one stoner mistakenly wigs out at the frightening painting and then finds god because of his fear, the more power to the people painters. It just gives me the heebie-jeebies.

The other night I was on my way to meet a friend at Joe�s bar and I came across what I thought was a high school church or student council group. And then they started talking about kegs out of someone�s truck, how their boyfriends don�t have any money to pay for more than ramen, and other poppycock that made me smack my forehead and shake it in disdain.

Then I noticed there were no chaperones: This was indeed not a group of high schoolers. This was a group of sorority girls and fraternity boys too young to drink legally, heading back to their hotel to make it in by the pledge-defined curfew.

No sooner did I realize this did I start noticing small details that would have given them away: the girls� hips were a little too big for their LEI jeans, the hand holding the bar near my face had a silver a-chi-o ring on it�s pointer finger, and the guys were being paid too much attention despite their mindless drivel about how they�re too young for booze but never too young for pot.

Should I mess with these kids? I could pass for college-aged still. I could say that I was a ZTA from Lamar-U, Southeast Texas region, blah blah blah. I could even talk about how community-oriented we were and how we preferred watching Disney movies while drinking strawberry banana wine coolers than attending the big kegs parties, but how we supported our �brothers� anyway. I could always use the Greek saying, �Fuck a Delta, date a Zeta, and marry an a-chi-o.�

I could lure the prettiest of the frat boys away with my non-sorority-girl hips, making him think that tonight was �freshman get some,� only to buy him a burger while teasing him with words and flirtation with the fries... um, I mean eyes.

I could explain to the girls that they should forget the younger guys who can�t afford the 11 p.m. Taco Bell run and enjoy their youth: get an older man. They�re still young enough to effectively use the �waiting until marriage� line, would probably get some great oral, and would routinely eat good Italian alfredo instead of half-price night at Crazy Jose�s.

But it was my stop, so I got off laughing to myself, wondering who would be my future marketing intern.

Usually I�m not this amused, but I have found one favorite that leaves me smiling every single time it happens.

Eye contact on the el is not permitted. Talking with the passengers would be sacrilegious. So while you�re on the el, there�s not much to do besides watch buildings fly on by.

...Years go flyin� by / You�d better stop the bus / And get of here / Oh-oh / Oh-oh / In this factory

Ben Folds. April 15th at Elmhurst College.

But when you�re at an actual stop, there are no rules that govern what you can and can�t do with the people waiting at the stop for the next train. There isn�t time to talk with them using any words, but eye contact tells you all you need to know.

I�m cold.

I want to get home to my kids before they tear each other and the house up.

Pizza would be great tonight. Pizza and beer.

Yes, I�m spanking my secretary.

I�d like to think when people read my eyes that they heard me giggle and exclaim, �I�m in love with Chicago!� �



Miss something?

Moving Day - 2008-02-15
Working from Home is Glorious - 2008-02-13
Speaking in Tongues - 2008-02-07
I Have My Reasons - 2008-01-25
Got an Itch, Fix it, Shine it Up, Sing it Out - 2008-01-23

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