Good Morning, Chicago.

Ah. The sun is shining. There is dew on the leaves. Birds are chirping... kind of. The construction site across the street is overpowering the birds, but you can hear their faint song somewhat as a gust of fresh air rushes to your face as you walk out of your building and make your way to walk. It is going to be a good day.

You see the joggers jogging about with their noses up in the air and their smug yeah-I'm-better-than-you-because-I- get-up-early-to-work-out demeanor. (Why is that the majority only wear really short shorts or really really tight clothes?) Then the little old woman you see rain or shine passes you with her dog who looks more like it is taking her for the walk since she can barely control him. You walk underneath at least one scaffolding before you arrive at your bus/train stop and pace anxiously with the other commuters waiting for your favorite mode of transportation to arrive.

It does not matter if you take the bus or the train, but for some reason it always smells the same--that homeless/haven't showered in months smell. But for some reason, there is something about the scent of piss and last night's vomit on an early morning that just starts your day off right. If it didn't smell as rancid as it did, it wouldn't be public transportation, would it?

The best feeling in the world is getting on an empty bus or cart. Having your own seat is basically a miracle. All your problems disappear. You put your Ipod on and just lose yourself, jam out a little bit--perhaps read the Red Eye because you can since you have so much room. Hell, you even pull out a pen and start the crossword puzzle. It is just amazing. Everything is turning up Milhouse.

If you make it to your final destination with your own seat, you are just on top of the world. But if somewhere between point A and point B someone sits next you, you best believe that person becomes your mortal enemy for violating your personal space. The whole rest of the way you are picking out every possible thing that could be wrong with them in your mind. It gives you anxiety and you have mini panic attacks when someone sits next to you. At that point, they are ruining not just your day... but your whole life.

It is all a mind game too--like it is a personal attack on you. They brush up against you while they are rummaging through their crap. You give them a dirty look and kind of "accidently" nudge them with your elbow... hard. The a-hole pulls out a newspaper and totally invades your person space. You sigh loud enough for them to hear and roll your eyes. Before you know it, this mother fucker is all over your shit and basically sitting on your lap. You start breathing heavy and freaking out. It gets really hot and you notice this piece of shit is sweating all over you... and they are wearing so much eau de toilette that you start dry heaving. You wonder, WTF! Why me, God? There are 700 open seats, even rows without people in them! (God points laughs because He hates you.)

The commute you take every single day feels about five hours longer. The calm morning turns into a neverending nightmare. There are friggin pigeons everywhere. The cars honking in the midst of traffic give you a major headache. Those goddamn Green Peace people are asking you to save the children/polar bears/environment. As you flick them off, a huge gust of wind comes and ruins your hair as your about to walk into your office.

Man, I love this city.