This post is about trains. For any readers living in LA- a train is a marvelous new device designed for mass transportation. Mass transportation is… actually, just go ahead and refer to them in your heads as “not-cars”. It’ll be easier that way.
Anyway, as remarkable as the not-car system in Chicago is, I’ve just been plain unlucky. Twice, now, I’ve been on trains where people have vomited. On the train. All over the train.
I have friends who have lived in this city for years and never once seen this happen. I know people who haven’t even heard of this happening. But I’ve been 5 feet away from people upchucking on a crowded train. Twice.
What. The. Fuck.
If this is some convoluted scheme to get me to think twice before binge-drinking, congratulations. You win. After seeing/hearing/smelling literally liters of vomit, sprayed everywhere from the puker’s hair and clothes to the seat across the aisle, I’m never drinking before getting on a train again. Or at least I’ll try not to think about it when I am drinking. Or maybe I’ll just make an effort to vomit somewhere safe, like a street corner or someone’s front porch.