jotsheet

In this “my mundane life” category, few things are as mundane as my morning commute. Although I’ve moved once in the past three years, I’ve traveled a similar route the past three years and touched the same six Red Line stops, each and every day. Belmont, to Fullerton, to North & Clybourn, to Clark & Division, to Chicago, to Grand.

Each and every day, I depart the humble, bumbling, electric silver train to memorable din of “This is Grand.” I walk in step with dozen of other sleepy downtown minions, some with briefcases, some with suitcases, all with cell phones. I trudge up the escalator, treating it like a staircase—whether it is in proper working order or not. Often, it’s broken.

Into the subway station, I’m carried along by the mob for but a moment, then make a choice: to wait in a fast-forming line behind an old turnstile or to veer sharply left and take the long but line-free path to the street. In three years, I’ve gotten good at gauging which will be faster.

The stairs to the street level were not made for two ascending people columns, but we convert the staircase into a one-way show. Reverse commuters be damned at 9:00 a.m. Many of them just wait at the top of the steps for the crowd to thin.

And in a tribute to this daily, rhythmic, reliable mundaneness, I recorded it. Listen closely; all of the elments above are present.

Perhaps it’s a problem when the truly mundane is recorded and posted on a mundane blog. Is there a multiplier effect?

(By the way, the recording is done through Evoca. It’s cool and free. Thanks to David Burn for pointing it out to me.)

Share This