If you are ever in the Chicago area, on a tight budget and in need of some entertainment, then hop on the CTA Red line. It never leaves one disappointed. I suspect that it is the best of the lines due to the fact that it runs from the northern edge of Chicago down through the loop to the south side. As anyone who resides in the Windy City knows, there's a wide range of demographics and individuals who fall into the North side/Loopers/South Side geographic range. The character base is heightened to even more interesting levels due to the fact that it is a 24-hour line, meaning that those who are residentially challenged, out for late night binges, feeling the need to preach about Jesus at 3 a.m., or beg for money to feed their pregnant wives who are chugging mountain dew and eating Hostess snack goods can cruise the red line at any time of day. It's a colorful cast of characters, that's for sure. Due to the late hours that come with my profession, I frequently encounter these individuals on my commute home.
It should be noted that the Blue line is also a 24-hour line as it provides services to O'hare Airport- where optimistic hopes of flying with ease go to die. However, I will not be writing of the blue line as 1. I do not live off of it and 2. I once saw a pile of feces under a seat on one of the rare occasions I rode the blue line. Having to be 6 feet away from a fresh pile of human poop of unknown origins is enough to make me deal with the buses or eat ramen noodles so I can afford a cab. Really, who shits on the L?
Anyway, the other day I was going into work and saw a fashion choice that rendered me completely speechless. Note: this was not late night at all, but rather 4 in the afternoon. I'm just calling it late night red line for consistency's sake. Plus, Mid-afternoon Red Line just does not have any punch. Back to things, I am on the train, bebopping to some Gaga on my headphones and reading Breakfast of Champions (the book, not a box of Wheaties. Despite my fat girl status, I can handle a 20 minute commute in without shoveling food into my face. Most days.) and I notice a woman out of the corner of my eye. I don't use headphones and keep a strong sense of situational awareness on my late night rides, but in the mid afternoon, I relax and enjoy the time to space out on my book. I try not to look her way as I have found it best to avoid eye contact of any sorts on the train lest risk someone begging for loose change/job/crack/your soul, but something was amiss. So I finally glance up and am momentarily stunned by what my eyes meet. Seated adjacent to me was a very "plump" woman wearing a teddy.
Actually, it was more like a baby doll teddy, but it was still a flipping teddy! As in a piece of lingerie best used in the privacy of one's own home. A teddy, as in blue satin-black lace trim on the bust and bottom-peek a boo cut outs on the side-OH MY GOD DID I JUST SEE YOUR SNATCH?!?- teddy! What. The. F***!
I tried to avert my eyes, mostly because I knew my face was completely revealing my shock/awe/embarrassment. I pulled my Vonnegut closer to my face and kept sneaking glances to the side. Her demeanor was what surprised me. She sat quietly, pocket book on her lap (Thankfully, because I was not in the mood to get a crotch shot), seemingly unaware of the fact she was wearing a negligee or that it was garnering a number of responses from those around her. In different attire, she could have been going to work just like I was. Or perhaps she was going to work, and just does not feel the need to be discreet about it.
I truly wanted to applaud her confidence in herself to wear what she wants, because as a fellow larger framed lady, I know it can be daunting to show off a little skin. So kudos to her for saying to hell with what society and/or decency laws might dictate about what is appropriate attire.
Next time, however, I hope she remembers to wear the skivvies that typically come with lingerie, because I am adding vagina to the list with human poop of things I never want to see on an L car.