Trains, Planes and… well, just trains.

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.