respect for the CTA red line.

I have nothing but respect for the CTA Red Line. And to those who decide to diss it: respectfully, f*ck your ridicule. Because those are also likely the same people who don’t actually take the Red Line every day like many of us do, and instead are doom-scrolling headlines from the comfort of their feeds.

The Chicago Transit Authority more broadly is a big reason I can now open up room in my budget for things I love (read: social events), because my $75/month pass can get me anywhere, including to work every morning and back from the clubs late at night.

And please don’t @ me about the safety of late-night transit. I support anyone taking whatever mode of transportation gives them the most comfort and ease after a night of raging. I’ll still call Ubers when I see fit, but for the most part, if I’m an easy 22 bus or Red Line away, I’d rather reallocate my money elsewhere (while also getting my steps in). But I love riding the train for more than just its budget-friendliness.

For example, this morning I sat next to a girl wearing a Spider-Man backpack, kneeling on the seat and staring out the window, enamored by every building in the distance. Another time, I watched a kid have a major meltdown, and the mom handled it so gracefully that a stranger eventually walked up to her just to say: “I have to tell you, you’re doing a really great job.” You can also reference back to my wholesome interaction with a 5-year old named Phoebe.

The people-watching is prime. And honestly, sometimes it’s nice to just throw your noise-canceling headphones on and read a book without the responsibility of keeping your eyes on the road… especially considering plenty of people don’t seem to do that while driving anyway.

And I find it interesting watching how the crowd changes depending on what part of the city I’m in. I’m (subjectively) convinced the Red Line gets straighter the farther south I go. Starting near me in Edgewater, my gays and theys join me. Through Lakeview, we still have a pretty solid 🏳️‍🌈squad. But once we hit Lincoln Park and Old Town onwards, that’s when the finance bros and girliepops in matching SoulCycle yoga sets start pouring in – somehow already post-workout, fully dolled up, vanilla lattes in hand.

Have I seen fights break out on the train or platform? Yes. Have I watched folks roll joints and hotbox the car I’m in? Absolutely. Have I smelled things far less pleasant than the Black Ice air freshener of a car? Without question.

But none of that negates the better parts: the moments of humanity, weirdness, routine, and coexistence that ultimately outweigh the occasional chaos.

Not all heroes wear capes, they say. But to the Red Line, I can absolutely picture a red cape waving in the Chicago wind as it pulls away from each stop, getting me safely to wherever I need to be that day. So yeah. Respectfully, Red Line: thank you for your service.

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Updated 5:28pm: Ironically wrote my last sentence as a too-jam-packed 22 bus pulled up, preventing me from cuddling up next to Kyra in the claustrophobic crowd. So all I got in was a wave.

I still love you, CTA. 🚊