This bus line extends from as east as Navy Pier and to the western boarder line of
The diversity of the 45 minute drive rings true to personal experiences-from the intrinsic, scenery of Oak Park through the crime-ridden Austin area and Humboldt Park, through the European fragrances of Ukrainian Village and West Town, and finally through the banks of the yuppie-infested River North to the edges of Lake Michigan. The people along the journey ride in hopes to get to a desired destination. Some passengers give advanced notice as to where to let them off, while others appear lost wanting to know just how far the bus goes in order to gage their present location. Still, others board for pleasure, school and work. Some board with no absolute destination, taking up space with rude and obnoxious behavior distracting everyone from a peaceful excursion. The entertainment remains in the attempts to predict certain people’s departure points, but one thing that persisted—not everyone traveled to the end of the line and not everyone in my life will endure to the end. The same activity is parallel to the relationships in my personal experiences. Childhood friends, once teammates in pick-up games of basketball at Henry Nash Elementary School, now fell victim to the atrocities of inner-city life.
Time seemed suspended on the daily journey as people rushed in and out of my life. This constant block of time looked as the only way to really control my destiny. I know which stop to board and which stop to get off. I am familiar with the distance, but uncontrollable events like accidents, fights, detours, mechanical problems at times made for frustrating episodes, but when all the commotion regressed there I sat, back on the straight line. I would like to believe that in the midst of enduring tribulations that the internal compass of my destiny will always lead into the direction of my dreams no matter how far I deviate from the original path.
The real aggravation comes when the signs become obscured, when people get in the way of assessing progress. During a minor obstacle the straight line becomes blurred. How do I continue in forward progress when the obvious maps of life become unavailable? The familiar repetitions of the hydraulic system that gasp for air as the doors swing open and close provide a sense of security in the prediction of the distance to my origin, but stepping away from that system deemed as a scope in direct correlation to a morning ritual without a guide seems hopeless. The duplication of street signs on a daily basis creates a comfort that causes complacency. It is that very feeling that congers the thirst for adventure and impulsive behavior like getting off a stop early because traffic stood still and walking may have seemed faster. A yearning for personal success as a reaction from the observation of people in my neighborhood that seem to be going nowhere causes the very attempt to deviate from the original course to explore the possibility of an alternate route. It always seems as if I’m not getting there fast enough.
The difference in the route and my life coincides with the fact that I can predict when the next bus comes, I know the approximate length of the trip, and I can always find a better route if I don’t like the 66. But in my life I have a vague sense of where I’m going. What defines personal success after what seemed a major accomplishment becomes a milestone or after I have accomplished what I thought loitered as my life’s purpose? The ride doesn’t stop. Life isn’t over. Early on people stress the importance of education, work, and financial stability but very few people expand on the “now what factor”, an idea that someone enlightened me with.
“You finish school, now what?” she says. “You get a job, now what? Life is just a bunch of ‘now what’s.”
Comments
Post a Comment