The Magic Captain I read this week that commuting via public transportation induces stress just like driving at rush hour.

Witness:
I'm riding home today and this mushmouth behind me is making a commotion. He's bumping me with his newspaper and trying to get the attention of the girl across the aisle by yelling, "Hey! White Girl! What's that picture you got?" White Girl is studiously -- very studiously -- pretending not to hear him, which is bugging him more and more. Finally he taps my shoulder. I turn around and he asks, "Why won't that white girl talk to me? She pretend she don't even hear me!" I said, "Well, first of all, it's kind of rude to call someone 'White Girl.'"

(This is not the first time I have stepped into the role of CTA Conductor of Etiquette. As in, "People might have pens, but they might not lend you one if you start by asking them, 'What the fuck is wrong with you fuckers? Don't nobody have a pen?'")

Anyway, Mushmouth insisted he didn't mean it that way. I understand, right? "And besides, maybe she doesn't feel like talking right now."

This shut him up for about 10 seconds and then he was at it again, shouting about the picture while she forcefully, now, ignored him and everyone else looked nervous. He said that there was something he was going to do to her with the picture, and eventually got up, walked around so he was facing the picture, looked it over and then threatened to break it. Still, she refused to look at him.

She got off right about then at Fullerton and three DePaul students got on. Immediately he greeted one of them, saying, "I'm the Magic Cap'n. What's your name?" She introduced herself and they got on like old friends. Tension disappeared. He became a harmless, friendly CTA rider and nothing more. 

¶ 10:26 PM