Ergurgled.

Ergurgles. When you live as far north as I do, you realize the cons far outweigh the pros, but there is always one thing you're grateful for on a daily basis: in the mornings, you are guaranteed a seat on the train because your commute is that fucking long. But on days, rare as though they may be, if I don't get a seat... well then the silver lining has faded to gray, no eggs ever hatched, and Humpty, well, I know he will never get up again.

It's been a week of this and, I tell ya, hope does not spring eternal. In fact, I don't think it's barely limping. Silly lazy hope. So day 4 of this: Thursday, and I'm grumbling. It's not just standing for 45 minutes that is so upsetting, it is the the being squashed, prodded, pushed, breathed on, cursed at, sweated on and glared at and all around violated by complete strangers for 45 minutes that is upsetting.

42 minutes into this commute and it's almost Friday. My mantra for the morning. My ipod is playing a soft melody in the background. Lamenting the death of my spirit, appropriate right now as the temperature drops in the 10 minutes I have been waiting and another 20 degrees for each train that whips by on Express...cruelly taunting my platform with it's many vacant seats.  A hesitant train pulls up, obvious the conductor wishes he could speed on by on express as opposed to dealing with the throngs of people amassed on the platform. We herd in, already bouncing off strangers and already making enemies, defending a tiny space and protecting our personal bubbles.

I zone out. 42 minutes left of this hellish trip. We pull up to Chicago. The first major unloading point. My unloading point is next. It's almost Friday. I remind myself. I've got a nice diddy playing in my ears. A good, positive beep bopping almost encouraging a smile. 3 minutes. One more stop. The doors open. I'm in one of those spots in the car, where there is no possible way to get out of anyone's way. Because everyone is exiting from all directions, right through you. So the best thing you can do is squish in one direction and make everyone funnel out the same way. Seems logical. Seems simple. Seemingly. I try and squish my way down, channeling some foreign invisibility powers, and move towards the other non-exiting people. But this one sir... this one gentle sir... decides to take the path of most resistance and instead of following the crowd through the path created just for exiting, his one most pressing need at the moment is addressed and he decides he has to go in front of me. Now... I understand sometimes exiting a crowded train can spark unnecessary anxiety. Whether or not you're gonna make it? If people will move? Are you going the right way? Did you forget anything? What if I trip over a baby's head? People can become blind-sided to their one goal of just stepping foot outside this crowded, rocking beast. So I move. I let him go in front of me. I let him interrupt my perfect squishing and peel me off my immovable mass of people. I unsquish. I exhale my invisibility and repeat the process. Except this time... there is less time and space for full squishing. I look over at this rogue friend. An older man, a man who has clearly lived a fruitful life and that's not at all apparent in one of his many frown lines. His lower lip hanging out, clearly over exerted from a lifetime of smiling pleasantries. He stares me down, even from his stooped level; I reciprocate by conveying with my eyes that this is as far back as I can go. I gesture. I inch back. He, for all his noted skills above, cannot read my body language. And...shoves me! I follow his old, wrinkly, ashen hand as it makes contact with my abdomen and anticipate his touch. He shoves me! I met his gaze and I guess I had the last laugh because there was nowhere for me to go. There was no room!

With all this, I smile. The audacity of that man compounded with the futility of the situation, I smiled. I smiled until I got off 3 minutes later and had to ignite my own battle for freedom. Almost Friday. Ergurgles.