Crazy lady on the train.

This past weekend I took a fantastic trip to Chicago to celebrate my 29*th birthday and unfortunately put my boyfriend on a plane back home.  The details of the weekend are many and include butterfly habitats, nature museums, conservatories, and lunch with an April fools day birthday boy and his new fiance. All those were great, but Sunday was an amazing half day followed by an exorbitant amount of emotional energy spent in an attempt to not be "that crazy lady on the train."

The morning involved sleeping in, being a disgustingly sweet affectionate couple and eating waffles at Waffles (highly recommend clicking if you are in Chi-town).  But, then the afternoon came with the realization that everything would change for months? Years?  The beginning of a long distance relationship with an eight hour time difference....(insert tiny sarcastic 'woo hoo').

Following the train to brunch was the train to the hotel followed by the train at the airport which took me to the city train who's final destination was my Amtrak train home. I would later view this as 5 chances to not be the crazy crying girl on the train.

The first two trains brought little challenge to appearing no more than my baseline crazy. I had the pleasant company of my guy.  The third train I am afraid was the toughest.  After two missed trains secondary to my inability to say goodbye at the airport I finally scrabbled to a back corner of the crowded airport shuttle train and my puffy eyes and red cheeks gave me away to the very sweet elderly woman seated next to me.  She simply stated, " You must need a hug" as she simultaneously wrapped her arm around my shoulders and gave me the sweetest little peck on the forehead.

Note: There is definitely an age limit below which this would not have been socially acceptable...but she appeared to be nearing 180 years old, so she was safe.

I spent the next few minutes tucking my head so that the rest of the shuttle couldn't witness the "crazy girl."  After climbing out of the shuttle at the last stop I began down the maze of airport basement to the Metra.  Quite a long walk.  Enough to clear my head a bit, or suppress the crazy, as it were.  I boarded the waiting train in anticipation of it's departure. (This is a stop at the end of the line where many trains often switch routes, and this particular one had not yet announced itself as a Blue line train.) As I sat waiting a few silent tears fell, but I was alone and didn't care.  As people began to board a few of them stopped to ask if it was indeed the train to the city.

Note: Despite popular belief among many strangers in many situations I usually have no clue, but apparently have a trustworthy face so strangers ask me random stuff all the time.

A lost looking, middle aged couple asked this question and as I glanced up to confirm it was indeed the appropriate train they gave me the head tilt puppy dog eyes of concern and empathy.  Failed at not being the crazy lady two trains in a row.  Oh well, I was running fifty/fifty at this point I still had a chance to pull ahead once I got to the Amtrak.

45 minutes later I arrived downtown and walked the short quip to Union Station.  Met with a less that helpful customer service lady who apparently has no knowledge of general good business practice, but I digress. So, as opposed to letting me board the unfilled train which was leaving in fifteen minutes I waited for the later (sold out) train. This gave me two hours to meander around and witness what seemed a never ending population of those disgustingly sweet affectionate couples.  I survived, boarded my train, propped my feet up on my bag and closed my eyes for a nap. (You can't look too crazy if you're napping, right?) I was at an advantage for my last train...there was a definitively crazy lady seated a few rows ahead of me; by comparison even my sniffles would have seemed normal juxtaposed with her cursing and loud complaints about how one of the helpers should have to carry her tiny duffle bag because she "just got (her) nails did."

3/5 ain't bad.  After you give me the bonus points for allowing a stranger to kiss me on the forehead and not strangling an Amtrak employee I figure that's a passing score.