Is this seat taken?

He has a trucker's hat on--plastic mesh-- which is just a few shades darker than the collared shirt he wears--blue. I know he's in one of the unions because of the White button on the hat, but I'm not sure which one. I've lived here for two years and still know very little about unionization. Or not as much as I'd like to, at any rate.

"Damn kid, she fell in love an' now she's back from Australia and her car's broke, so I'm goin' over to fix it up. I never ride this far north. These trains make me sleepy, you know? Jesus, this one time I was at the Addison stop, right after a Cubs game you know. Anyways, there was people all over the place, there was. And then..."
He starts talking before I've even really settled into my seat, but by the time I have,I can see the 30-ear story of a steel worker's life written in his face and hands. He tells me more about himself, not in so many words (although there's a lot of them), but in the way he says the ones he does.

One of the things I love about Chicago, that I hated about DC, is the public transportation system. I've never spent part of my night in a station because of closed lines here, even though the wait times sometimes make me feel as if I am. My commute here has always been about the same, 30 minutes to an hour, yet the people I meet on the trains here are almost always enjoyable, always willing to talk and keep me entertained. Even if I don't ask for it. Like many of my travel companions, this man is blue-collared, not only in dress and vocation, but in attitude, expression. He's Joe Everyman, and I love hearing whatever it is he has to say.

I don'tknow if I have "seekingyourlifestory" written all over my face instead of the fine script of stress others wear, but I've always been able to get stories out of people without even trying. As a journalist, this provided me with the great quotes editors love. As a friend, this provides me with plenty of examples to reassure and cheer up any friend. And as someone who loves listening to people, it's provided me with many an entertaining moment and new friend.

When I first moved here and would share my CTA experiences and new friends with my old room mate, Emily, she often expressed surprise at them.
"you meet so many new people," she'd say to me, sort of awed, sort of creeped out. "How?"

I just like to talk, listen. Share in life. If that means some long-winded and oftentimes boring 45 minute rides downtown (and it does) well, meeting my new union buddy more than makes up for it.

"Jesus, these kids these days, you know. She went to Australia and fell in love and now she's back and I keeps sayin', I keeps sayin', 'when you gonna give me some grandbabies' but I think me an' her mom, I think we scared the bejesus outta her with our fighting at each other all the time. But you know, all that matters is that she's happy. And that her car works. So I'm gonna go look at it now and make sure it does. You live up here? Boy, it's sure nice up here now. You have a good day ma'am."

And just like that, he's gone, off at Fullerton, off to the Brown Line and the acquisition of some other story. The contrast of his rough exterior, his thick fast-talking Chicago accent and the subject matter are what draw me into this man's story, and long after I get off, I think of the ride and what it means to have experiences like this on the train; I think of what it means to be human.