Perennially Unsatisfied

I finally figured it out.

People in Chicago like to have something to complain about.

The weather, specifically.

The very same people that bitch and moan all winter because it is too cold, too dry, too windy and too unbearable outside are the ones that, now with summer here, are complaining that it is too hot, too humid, too stifling and too unbearable outside.

Did you see the ironic paralells there? No? I'll point them out more overtly:

cold vs. hot...
dry vs. humid...
windy vs. stifling...
...all equal unbearable.

I know people in Chicago are considered tough characters. One look at the crowd at a Bears Game, one study in history of the famous Chicagoans, or one glance at the current Chicago Tribune headlines proves that people here are made of sturdy stock.

But, I think the complaining about the weather is part of that charade. Part of the deal.

I've even fallen victim to it - I have seen temperatures of 105 and -11 register on my car thermostat. I have flown into Chicago from Phoenix in February and had the pilot actually LAUGH as he tells us that after leaving the 80 degree weather in Arizona, we were touching down in Chicago to temperatures of 20 below zero with a windchill. Which, for all of who not having gone to math camp, is a ONE HUNDRED DEGREE swing in the matter of four hours. I have called my Dad to laugh about the ridiculous swings in the weather here. I have even put my random complaints in various posts here. Maybe I'm just trying to blend in and sound native.

But, I mean, really? You never want it hot? Or cold? Or windy? Or still? Or humid? Or dry?

Seriously.

Where should these people live?

Where should I tell them to go? (Besides straight there.)

And, frankly, is there a train that will shuttle them there?

'Cause the one way ticket is on me.

Soggy Strangers

Why is it that when people are crammed together in a public place, for example the CTA bus, and they experience some sort of oddity or crisis, they all feel the need to theorize and share their opinions with everyone within earshot?

Yesterday, Chicago had a freak flash flood from 3-3:45. Apparently we got 4 inches of rain in that period. Which is huge. So, Lake Shore Drive, and the underpass from Michigan specifically, was a complete disaster. I suppose it was flooding.

The trip down Michigan took about an hour to go 6 blocks. If I had known, I would have gotten off and walked home.

Anyway, back to the part about strangers. This guy seated next to me (while I was precariously perched in the accordian part of the super-sized buses) had a full view of the window, and therefore, felt the need to report every little activity outside the window. While this sort of information sharing is often encouraged, I would have preferred that the news come from a reliable source, you know, like the BUS DRIVER. They're the ones in charge, buddy.

So he goes on reporting that we're likely behind a huge accident. That he thinks he sees the wreckage. On and on. Come to find out, there is no explanation, but the police do have the underpass blocked. We teeter and totter over to Inner Lake Shore only to sit dead still for even longer. People don't know how to merge in this town. Or anywhere, I'm guessing.

Finally we get moving, and he must have had a hard time NOT sharing this "we're all stuck on this bus going nowhere" feeling with everyone around him, so he starts randomly spouting out his theories. They ranged from the car accident variety ("someone's probably dead under the bridge") to the conspiracy sort ("cops just want to cause problems") to the eventual logical type ("maybe it had something to do with the rain"). He's a rocket scientist, clearly.

Everyone is ignoring him. Including me, with whom for some reason he just wanted to make eye contact and keep talking. I refuse to engage. I give him the tight-lipped smile/nod move that I reserve for strangers with whom I'd like no further contact. He plods on.

I am wearing headphones and reading a 700-page book, mind you.

Not stopping this guy. He's like a flood. And the gates were open.

We do eventually make it up to Outer Lake Shore when it hits him. He literally shouts, "I know! I bet (contradictory, much?) that the underpass was flooded and blocked?!" to no one in particular. We all smile/nod. Ignoring him.

I made it home after 1.5 hours of this. And, I live 3 miles away. What a night.

And, the news reported that the genius on the bus was in fact right. So he likely got to say all day today, "I knew it."

Yes you did, sir. And, thanks to you, we all did, too.