Epistemological violence in America

At around 10:30 this morning, I waited for the Brown Line at the Southport El station. I had gone to the grocery store at that time to beat the post-work rush of Professionals looking to soften the day's corners with an expensive organic chardonnay. I waited ten, fifteen, twenty minutes with no sight of the outbound train I needed to get home, during which time at least five inbound trains rolled through the station. I was hungry, decidedly under caffeinated and quickly becoming cranky. I silently cursed the CTA and wondered what in the name of all things decent was going on. I became another inpatient city dweller, unappreciative of the fact that Chicago is home to a world-class mass transit system in the first place.

Upon arriving back at my apartment I went to the Chicago Tribune's website, where I discovered the cause of the delay: the body of a twenty-something male was found on the tracks near the Kedzie station, less than a mile from my house. Click here for the Trib article.

While I fretted over my thawing veggie burgers some poor bastard lay dead on the tracks. Too bad it took such an event for me to remember that getting home late and safe is far better than not getting home at all. I am disappointed with myself for getting in a dither over something so trivial, and for acting no differently than the thousands, millions even, of folks who shout, honk and shoot their way to early graves. How difficult it can be to remain calm when faced with the slightest adversity. I have to try harder not to become That Guy, because That Guy is not cool. And not good for anyone.