Tuesday, November 21, 2017

My First Train Ride

Not my first train ride ever of course, I had been on trains before, but the first time I rode the L. My first real taste of Chicago, the place that would become my home.

It was the latter days of my senior year of college, graduation was around the corner and we were all filled with nervous anticipation and perhaps a thinly veiled panic at what was to come. The acting majors, of which I was one, all headed up to Chicago to perform in our Senior Showcase for potential agents and casting directors. I stayed with my sister in Lincoln Square the night before who gave me clear instructions on how to take the train to where I was going(Steppenwolf).

I made my way nervously to the train platform and boarded the Brown Line at Western, fiercely concentrated on going the right way, Loop and Kimball having little meaning to me at the time. I found a seat and as we sailed off(in the right direction) a sense of wonder began to creep up and through me. As we coasted along above the houses and the city stretched out in every direction I was exhilarated by this teaming expansive of avenues and streets and consciousnesses all majestically intertwined. As if I had passed into some magic world with potential and adventure everywhere. A grown man's Narnia. I successfully transferred from the Brown to the Red at Belmont and felt deliciously adult and competent. As the train went subterranean another shiver ran up my spine, I was under ground, what a thrill!

As I came up and out of the North/Clybourn stop, birthed into the bright and busy Chicago afternoon, I looked at the famous theater I would shortly be performing at and marveled at my change in circumstances. Only the day before I had been in a small university town surrounded by corn on every side, morose with inactivity, uninspired, and hungry. Today I was in the capital C City. With pulsing pumping life and opportunity on all sides, overwhelmed by the bright and the new. O' the glory to be had! O' the promise!

After I actually moved the blush wore off and the gnashing teeth of the windy city chewed me up and spit me out humbled so I could return after two years of penance with some semblance of respect to the Midwestern giant we call the Chi. I ride the train now with assurance and mudanity, wishing I could recapture the pure and simple awe of that first most beatific trip.

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