Patent it Already

I saw a woman on the bus who boarded wearing her full winter regalia. She had on the heavy coat, the scarf, the hat and the gloves. When it came time to pay, she didn't even flinch. She held her gloved hand up to the circular CTA pass reader and it beeped, and she boarded the bus.

I think she probably has her CTA card stuck inside her glove, so she doesn't have to search for it or put it away after using it, but I thought it was pretty brilliant. A little pocket inside the front of the left gloved hand. It could be sold and making this woman millions! Maybe I should get on that?

This made me ponder what other inventions I'd use on the bus, and I think the Magic Remote must be number one. Similar to the Tivo remote, it would be multi-functional, make funny little beeping noises, and would have a green thumbs up and a red thumbs down button.

That way I could mute the rude lady on her cell phone, fast forward through the heavy traffic, rewind and pause the interesting scenes that I'd like a closer look at (like the guy with the tattoo of music and poetry I wrote about last year), thumbs up and down people at random (and for totally surface/material things, such as great shoes or a bad body odor), and turn the volume down on those annoying CTA pre-recorded alerts. Although those sometimes make me laugh when they ironically come on when they are most needed...

What would you invent to make your commute more bearable? I'd be willing to bet $100 that someone in Atlanta immediately thought, "a Hovercraft."

Hole in One (Street)

A 36-inch, 100-year-old water main burst overnight, leaving a 15-foot-deep hole in Montrose Avenue that measures about 80 feet in diameter.

This could be blamed for some of today's horrendous traffic. Or, it could be that people took MLK day off, and somehow, over the course of the 3-day weekend, totally forgot how to drive?

Because it just couldn't be the not-even-2-inches of snow we got last night.

Could it?

Just Shoot Me

On the way home today, the bus was crowded, even though it was only 3:15 pm. I raced to catch it, and sat at the front near an old man. He had a cane, and was neatly dressed.

As the traffic slowed on Lake Shore, heading north, he started to mumble under his breath. Then it grew louder. And louder.

Then it was full out talking to himself, or anyone who was within a mere 10 foot range.

But clearly he didn't want, or need, a response. Just an audience.

He was not pleased with the bus driver. He was disappointed in the sluggish traffic. He was not happy with the soggy falling snow. He was cranking about the woman to his left's perfume. He was not overjoyed with the salt truck weaving in our lane. He wasn't happy with the Bears' season. (ok, that was mine, but it seemed fitting)

I could really only make out every 5th word or so, but we all got the gist.

This guy was one grumpy old man.

My mom, sister and I made a pact over this holiday: we promised that if we ever got really sore and crabby and grumpy and crazy as we aged, that we'd just shoot each other. Get us (and, frankly, everyone else) out of the misery. Save us the trouble of ending up as that old person on the bus that everyone is glaring at, and that is oblivious to it all.

Did I mention he was wearing a clinical face mask?