An Elemental Day

I had to have a little distance before blogging about this, that's why it's about 2-3 weeks delayed.

One Friday afternoon with plans to go to the Botanic Garden to smell the roses, I left work at my usual time and boarded my usual train. Things were going smashingly until...

One stop after I boarded, just before pulling into the station, we heard an awful grating noise that seemed to come from underneath the train. Everyone began to shuffle uncomfortably. Then we heard the noise again, and subsequently the train powered down and we stopped moving. It became eerily silent, and then we heard the noise again. People were really getting restless now, and suddenly a passenger sitting in a window seat called out, "the train's on fire!"

There was a moment where we, the passengers, seemed to collectively hesitate between panic and waiting calmly for instruction from the CTA Authority over the loudspeaker. None came, and instantly, someone pulled the emergency door release. We were almost all the way into the station, so all the cars but the last were able to step out onto the platform. I think the last car (where the sparks/flames were coming from) had to file into the next car to get out. There was a certain amount of chaos as people scrambled out the doors and ran down the smokey platform. Still, there was no direction or announcement from the CTA. It was unclear whether we were supposed to run as far away as possible because the train might explode, or if we were just supposed to sit tight and wait to be told what to do.

Luckily no one was hurt, and the flames only appeared while the grating noise was happening. The firemen walked in and out of the scene in a flash, and the rest of us waited in puzzlement without a word (in the entire 30 minutes that I waited) from the CTA about what was going on or that northbound trains were delayed, etc. I placed a few harried phone calls to my fellow Botanic Garden-bound friends relaying the info that I would miss my connecting train, etc, and we came up with a new plan of escape.

Later that evening, after our train dropped us a mile's walk from the Garden, all was peace and love as we smothered ourselves in roses of countless varieties and colors. They were beautiful even as stormy skies threatened overhead. As we ventured deeper and deeper into the garden, we began to hear the distant rumble of thunder. Then slowly the sky began to flash with lightning. When the drops started falling we contented ourselves with peering at the bonsai collection from under our umbrellas. But then our umbrellas began to fail us. The rain was too strong! We ducked inside a building with connecting greenhouses to wait it out.

And we waited. And waited... And waited. Then we began to wonder if this wasn't the second great flood that God was sending to wipe out all but Noah and his crew. We emerged from the building under a tent and watched amazed as the rain fell so hard and so fast that we could neither hear ourselves talk (unless we were singing operatic arias ;) ) nor see more than 10 feet beyond the edge of the tent.

It was getting late, and the moment the rain lightened a little we dashed down the path to the Visitors' Center knowing that the Garden closes at sunset, and no one knew we were still inside. Thankfully the visitors' center was still opened and we picked up a train schedule. Unfortunately we still had a mile back up the hill to the train station. Taxis were delayed because of the stormy weather, so we had no choice but to walk. We wandered back down the pedestrian trail to the edge of the garden-- a good 10-15 minute walk--, only to discover, to our dismay, that the gate was locked! We edged along the fence (through the hedge, I might add) trying to find a hole in the border where we could escape, but no luck! We were locked in! With too little time to go back to the visitors' center if we wanted to make the train to Chicago, we had no choice. We had to climb.

And climb we did--over a wet, 8-ft, chainlink fence. I was the first one over, while one friend held my purse and umbrella and the other worried below. When I got to the very top, I became momentarily entangled in a snarl of low-lying limbs, and I was laughing so hard that I was sure I'd fall to my death. However, one by one we made it over and began our trek up the hill. Normally, up the hill would be no problem at all, but on a day like that with the enormous amount of rain that fell in the span of an hour or two, the sidewalk was an actual, ankle-deep river. We were absolutely sopping wet.

Surely, once we reached the top of the hill we would get some reprieve from the rushing water cascading over our feet. Not so. At the top, the water covered not only the sidewalk, but the entire road and beyond. Cars were barreling through hoping to avoid stalling in the middle, and each time they sent waves lapping at our shins. There was no way to go around it, so we waded in. The water got deeper and deeper until it was up to our knees! A boy and his dad were playing in their driveway, and the boy was waist-deep! I thought of alligators and water snakes, and drudged through as quick as I could.

We made it onto the train, and shivered all the way home in the air-conditioning. Finally home, I stripped off the wet clothes and jumped into bed. I don't think I moved until morning.

An eventful day, if I may. I think my shoes will never be the same.