Monday, August 19, 2014 – inbound – trainspottingChicago



Good morning.

On the misty 7:30AM into the City. Its a gray day. I hope this isn’t some Shakespearian portend of incoming gloom, because I am a little busy with cleaning up the last gloom and doom.

I am still reeling from the death of my sump pump and the subsequent water logging my basement took last week. With a new sump system and a now dry-but-musty concrete basement, my wife and I are thinking about possibilities. I will need the next few weekends to repair and prime drywalls and purge old tchotchkis and outmoded technologies. Then, repair, then plan for what to do with the space.

Well, enough about my sinking ship.

There is a woman sitting five rows from me, my side, that has caught my eye. She reminds me a bit of Linda Hamilton from the first Terminator movie. She is not unattractive,  she is also not someone that would immediately turn heads. Blonde hair, straight, shoulder length. Long fingers. Mid to late forties. Frown lines. Slightly masculine jawline. Little to no makeup.

She looks battle worn. Tired. Resigned to the life she leads. She has a cocked smile as she reads a book she brought with her on the train. I can only see her head, so I can’t necessarily delve into any more details about her. She’s not wearing any jewelry on her right hand. Given the color of her eyebrows, its highly possible the blonde color is a dye job.

Every woman. The dispatch attendant for a taxi service. A tired office assistant. A stressed out junior attorney that didn’t quite climb the ranks. A divorcee? Who knows?

Contrast to her is a very tall gentleman who reminds me of Eric Cantor. I know he is tall because he is sitting at ninety degree angles at his knees and waist. His head is mere centimeters below the dystopian fluorescent lighting housing of the train car.
Baby blue shirt, silver-gray tie. Nice shoulders for his height. He visits the club three nights a week to work out and drink before going home to the wife and kids. Power broker. No emotion at all from this fellow. I want to guess Wharton School grad, but Kellogg is closer. A nose like Dick York.

Also here are Mike Singletary, Jim Cramer, Ming the Merciless, the bald Bradley Cooper-Ben Kingsley amalgam, and a Slytherin sixth year. All are armed.

Happy Monday. Safe travels.

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