Ok, first off, let me apologize for the appearance of the last post... the margins are all jacked for some reason, and after much frustration and effort to fix them, they have remained as they are... so if you really want to read it all, just highlight the post and read the stuff that you couldn't see before like that... I'm sick of fiddling with it and having no luck in getting it to look any different, so you'll just have to deal.
Ok, now that that's done, I'll get to the heart of the matter... Transit stories. Basically, nothing else is happening these days, so you get a tale from my legendary past adventures in public transportation. Those who know me personally have probably heard most or all of my gruesome travel stories, and this is why I have a reputation for being the un-luckiest Chicagoan in all the land when it comes to public transport. Those of you in the blogging world haven't heard these tales told in their full glory, though I'm fairly certain that you have noted the mention of them in other posts.
Picture it... Three college freshmen, all female, none indigenous to the state of Illinois, let alone being a storied resident of Chicago proper for more than a few weeks. There is me, a fresh-faced little Hoosier, only a few weeks removed from the environs of my Hoosier-dom. At that time, I had no family in the city, and in point of fact, the only friends in the greater Chicago area were those whom I'd managed to meet in the friendly confines of my college campus. There is Kirsten, my best friend, and like-minded girl, an Ohio State Buckeye through and through. She is probably the one person who has a personality so similar to my own that I would swear we were siblings separated at birth, if not for significant physical dispairites which made it obvious that this was not the case. She's one of the few people who reminds me a lot of myself who I actually adore. And then there is Katie... Sweet, innocent little Katie! A Minnesotan girl, who is so diametrically opposed to Kirsten and myself that it was inevitable that we should take her under our blackened wings, and promptly corrupt her... Katie, though academically brilliant, is more than a little bit timid, and when flustered says things like "Heck!" "Golly!" "Darn it!" and "Oh, Jeez!" (The cartoon character whom I would most liken Katie to would be Piglet.) Sweet little innocent Katie had, to this point, led a very VERY sheltered life... We blame Minnesota for allowing this.
So the three of us decide to venture into the greater downtown area for one reason or another, (if memory serves I believe it was shopping and having a lunch on State Street.) So we walk to the train station, wait for the train, and promptly board when it arrives.
Kirsten and Katie immediately seated themselves in the nearly empty car. Out of habit, I surveyed my fellow passengers, just so I am aware of those with whom I share the ride... It is during this quick once-over of my fellow passengers that I notice something that I was not prepared for... Seated directly opposite my friends was an otherwise unassuming man, who I happened to notice was quietly sitting in his seat with his manhood rather prominently displayed in his lap... outside the confines of his pants.
Kirsten and Katie had failed to notice this.
Part of me couldn't help but laugh at this, because at the time I thought it was not a frequent occurence to see a penis on a train, I have since been proven wrong in this line of thought.
Keeping my wits about me, and being protective of Katie's innocence I leaned into my friends and whispered, "Ummm, guys, you may or may not want to just take my word for it, but that guy over there... Well... He has his pickle out."
Kirsten turned and looked at me, certain she had misunderstood what was just said... I gave her a look in return that indicated that she was not mistaken. Meanwhile, Katie looked at me incredulously and hoped for some indication that I was only lying to her in an effort to see her get flustered... I wasn't lying.
Kirsten immediately turned, looked, and broke out in a stifled fit of laughter. Meanwhile Katie lost a little bit of her innocence as she looked, and her little eyes glanced over to what I assume was the first REAL penis she'd ever seen, and as I watched her eyes grow ever-wider with dismay, I watched them grow to an incredible size, and honestly I fully expected them to fall out of her skull and dangle by the optic nerves...
Kirsten and I are trying to control our outright laughter, and Katie is clearly in a frenzied state, begging us to figure something out. "Guys!!! What do we do? Do we get into another car?"
Calmly, I quelled her fears... "Katie, I think for your sake, we'd better get on another TRAIN."
So at the next stop, we left the man and his pickle aboard the train, and we boarded the next one when it arrived.
Kirsten summed up her point of view so perfectly by saying, "I don't know what was funnier, the fact that that just happened, or the fact that you called it a pickle!"
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