Small Town Wren

Photo courtesy of Thomas Hawk.

I spent some time at the local library this weekend getting some work done. I took some time to graze through some periodicals, including the Utne Reader. It’s been several years since I last picked up the Utne in a tiny Michigan town, and that’s a decision I have come to regret. The January/February 2010 issue has some fantastic articles and dispatches.

In particular there’s a quick dispatch from the IEEE Spectrum on the coming streetcar revival. Considering I’ve been planning a move to the stereotypical trolley-land of San Francisco in two years, the timing is interesting, to say the least. Nevermind that the true trolleys are the land of tourists and real transportation is on subways and trolley-busses (far less romantic).

I’m sort of passionate about public transportation. While driving is convenient (and a necessity for my current locale), it stands in stark contrast to my ethics. Cars are perhaps, among other things, a hallmark of American consumption and consumerism. They’re also terribly inefficient in terms of resources, and time & energy waste. And I’m aware that most people who have never lived in a public transport mecca will go on and on and on about how that is false, cars save so much time, blah blah blah.

I hate to break it to you, but no. They don’t. I’ll concede that they do in public transport black holes, but anyone who’s lived in cities where transportation is essential to the entire population will understand my point. When implemented effectively, public transportation is superior and reduces pollution and the need for resources. It’s why I’m such a huge fan of the bicycle.

But back to the trolleys. I find them to be exciting. It could potentially be a way to get an effective public transportation system in place without the crazy high costs associated with them. Smaller metropolises could utilize a streetcar system to great effect. The more people we get on mass transit the better. Driving a car is political, and it’s not politics I endorse.

Let me preface this with the fact that I am not a softy. I spent four years in New York City riding the MTA. I’ve been groped. I’ve been flashed. I’ve been eyed. Hell, I was once even threatened with a knife by a crazy man on the A at 3:00am because I was reading a book and he was convinced it was about him. Yeah, I’m not some scaredy-cat.

Chicago’s transit system is generally a much friendlier place than the MTA. I’ve never really had to put up with a lot of things that are just part of life in New York. For instance, I have never-ever been touched inappropriately–on accident or otherwise–on the CTA. I’ve never seen genitals on the CTA either.

Last night, however, was by the far the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been made to feel on any public transportation system. It started on the Red Line. I sat down at around 9:30. About 15 minutes later I felt the prickle of being watched. And then I noticed this guy just staring at me. He looked away as soon as I spotted him. No big deal, I told myself. I’m used to being looked at: I am an attractive young woman after all (not that it makes it okay for dudes to stare at me all creepy like). But again, it didn’t rattle me.

But then he kept staring at me. His eyes kept finding me and the look he had was not the kind I’m used to dealing with. It was all out staring, and without embarrassment at all.  And it made me uncomfortable. I’ve never felt that uncomfortable before from just being looked at.  I felt uncomfortable enough that when we reached my stop, I waited for the doors to open before collecting my stuff and rushing out.

I thought that would be that. I kind of laughed at myself when I glanced over my shoulder to make sure he wasn’t there. And he wasn’t. I didn’t see him.

I walked up Adams to Union Station to get on the Metra back to Aurora. I got in a car and sat down, pulled out my book, and thought I’d just read for the 20 minutes until the train was scheduled to leave. But then I felt that prickle again. I looked around but nothing. Then I looked up. Sitting above and across from me, and still staring me down, was the dude from the Red Line.

Okay, it’s one thing to be a creepy dude staring at me on a train, it’s an entire different thing to follow me to a different train and continue being creepy. I texted my sister and a friend immediately, then promptly switched cars. Luckily, I did not see him again.

The whole situation really shook me though. I’ve never felt that vulnerable in a public space before. I’ve never felt so violated without being touched. I’ve never felt so threatened without an exchange of words.

I mean, WTF? Why do some men feel like this is acceptable behavior? I am a woman, but I’m a human being first. Don’t follow me and certainly don’t be a creepy fuck about it.