Pink line party
Journey: thoroughly experience the pink line, everything along the way, and get to 54th/Cermak.
Reflection: Kind of like Rancho Cordova. A lot of brick, smokestacks and chimneys; so much so that, that one almost expects to see Charlie Buckett’s dilapidated home at the end of the line. *Only served by a two-car train, which implies low rider ship, which suggests minimal attraction and safety, which should have been a signal I heeded to. One of the three times this summer I’ve felt unsafe and uncomfortable. All free publications print in at least two languages. Nice Czech restaurant. Snarky bus drivers. Unreliable public transportation. Despite being at the end of the pink line, this was not at all an area that fits the color pink; it’s probably more of a dark gray, dark brown, violent orange kind of place.
It might have been hot and probably a dangerous day, but the line on my map is now extended to the end of the pink line.
*When I told the train driver what I was doing, going to spend the day on the pink line, he replied with “I think there’s a Dunkin’ Donuts and a gas station in Cicero, and maybe a Kmart. But that’s probably it.”
