Wake Up Call. Chicago Style.

I've developed a routine in Chicago. Therefore I've been under the falsehood that I know Chicago. As if taking the number 4 bus and the Red Line constitute knowing the city, I should've known that. But I have been going on every week, taking my usual routes and seeing the usual Michigan Avenue and Loop sights, thinking, "Ah, I'm a Chicagoan now." Wrong.

Breaking my routine is something I try to avoid whenever I can. I suppose like many people, it's more comfortable staying inside the lines then venturing outward. But as I have started making friends in Chicago, the invitations to go to their apartments have also started. Uh oh... that means I've got new routes to learn. "This is going to be hard." Wrong.

The Blue Line
Chicago has done something to me. I am slowly, but definitely, becoming less directionally challenged and more competent traveling, and more importantly traveling alone. I hadn't really noticed this until one o'clock in the morning last Friday.

 Three months ago if I was invited to a friend's house in Logan Square I would've winced at the thought and embarked to my new destination with trembling hands and a transparent look of nerves on my face. But when faced with that exact task, I took it as a challenge.

Sitting on the Red Line going towards Howard I maintained a cement look of confidence, although I'm not sure where it came from. I waited patiently to hear the automated voice say the next stop would be Jackson and that would transfer to the Blue Line. That was my que to exit the Red Line and for the first time, take another line. My stomach was a little uneasy, but it felt more like excitement then utter terror.

I read the signs that pointed me to the under ground tunnel, which would lead me to the Blue Line. I had imagined the tunnel looking an archaic man-made cave, dripping with moisture and strewn with the bones of those that didn't make it to the other side, like some medieval feat that I'd have to fight to get through in order to reach my destination. That was obviously my imagination running wild.

The tunnel is brightly lit and designed with white and blue tiles that form lively patterns across the walls and ceiling. There is nothing foreboding or challenging about it, besides the pesky smell of urine. The sound of a rambunctious drum beat lead my feet and I expected to see a group of men wailing away on bongos and upside down buckets. Instead, I was greeted with a group of kids, no more than 12 years old, creating a symphony from makeshift drums and instruments. I wondered why they were down here alone being so young, but was nonetheless incredibly impressed.

Late Night Travels
I made it to my destination with no hiccups, mistakes or faults. It was easy. Traveling in Chicago was becoming easy for me. But after hours in Logan Square, it was time to head home. This brought a surge of worry. It was past midnight now, and public transportation was always a different breed late at night. I imagined there would be all sorts of strange people on the trains and the busses. Night creatures that stayed hidden in the daylight and only came out to wreak havoc in the night... or so was the impression I'd been given. Wrong again.

Traveling at night seemed to be more peaceful and easier than during the day! There were no lines to wait in or people pushing and shoving to get through the crowds. In fact it just seemed as though people in their twenties were out, going home or to the next bar. My worries blurred with the speed of the train. And I smiled to myself.

What are some ways you got used to traveling in Chicago? Or an unfamiliar place?