Graphic of me in the Red Line Subway The Xavierite
I’m a small town guy. I come from a town called Minooka. On a daily basis, I’m used to cornfields, subdivisions, and minimal job opportunities. I’ve gone to this school for two years and I haven’t traveled off campus too many times. I haven’t traveled any farther than the CVS on 103rd, the same one right next to the Health Center.
One thing my father told me before I started here at Saint Xavier is to try things and I did. I’m a part of the school’s newspaper, Track and Field team, and Drama Club. As many opportunities I’ve had to try things, there are things that I will never do again and one of those is taking the Red Line.
This weekend, I had an opportunity to not only see some sights of the historic city of Chicago, not only that but also to attend the ICPAs. Although I didn’t win any awards, I did learn some things about journalism, as well about how to navigate Chicago. With all things of life that come your way you learn lessons.
I remember the second day of ICPAs. Waking up, getting ready, and meeting my fellow classmates to embark on a journey to downtown Chicago. After meeting everyone, as a group, we headed towards the train station. We all sat in gusts of cold winds, it felt like Chicago was giving us an insincere hug.
We all boarded the Metra Train and all showed the conductor our tickets. As I sat on the train ride, it creaked and squeaked desperately for some WD-40 to be applied. The ride was pretty quiet as everyone still tried to recoup after having a long day prior to that day.
After arriving at LaSalle Station, I was glad because I could finally stretch my legs and get some walking in, at least I thought I was getting my steps in. We walked a little bit and by unanimous vote we decided to take the subway. In the back of my mind I was uncertain. Like I said before I am a small town guy. I had never been on a subway ride prior to this day and I wasn’t sure what to expect, but on this day expectations turned into reality.
I descended into the abyss of the subway. Reluctantly, I opened up my Ventra app and purchased my train ticket. I tapped my phone on the scanner and walked through the wheel-locking mechanism. I descended further into the actual subway station along with my classmates. I looked around and it startled me. It gave off an ominous feeling: the dirty floor, the tight-spaced room, along with the sketchy people that plagued the area made me feel uneasy.
In the meantime I had to listen to some random guy letting everyone know he was listening to music, which annoyed me a little as I prayed this train would arrive soon. As I looked down at the tracks that were filled with trash I saw something rustling underneath the trash in the corner of my eye. As I looked closer to see what it was, there was a rat digging through an empty Portillo’s fry cup.
At this point, I am pleading that this train arrives at the snap of a finger. Finally, the subway train arrived flying past us a little before coming to an abrupt stop. The doors slid open and we advanced into the doors. Within a few short seconds, the doors shut. When I walked in the train accelerated like a formula one car almost launching me onto the people sitting near me.
The train started, then stopped, then started again, then stopped again. My eyes raced around, looking at the people around me. Everyone treated it like it was a normal day. I hadn’t felt so out of place, but I bit my tongue and held on to the germ infested pipe.
8 minutes later, we arrived at our destination. As soon as I stepped out of the train, I was greeted with the smell of urine. I briskly went up the stairs and ascended out of the subway and returned to the light. I never wanted to see the light more than that day and I made an oath to myself to never take the Red Line again. And that was the story on how I survived the Red Line.