It's so funny how whenever I go home for the weekend using Amtrak from Milwaukee to Union Station and then Union Station to the various southwest suburbs how I see the very same kids, the same kid I used to be.
All wearing the miserable khakis, the dog-collar-like lanyard, the longish, uncomfortable hair, the bursting-with-books backpack that always seems to tire even the strongest and most muscular of College Preparatory students' backs, the exhausted expressions they wear almost daily and the faces of relief each Friday.
"Just this train ride separates me and being home and relaxing," I would think to myself each Friday.
I remember how much I disliked the tumult the school provided me. Piles upon piles of homework, I would have to wake up at 5:40 a.m. each morning to get to a mere 8:00 a.m. class and how desperately I yearned for sleep all throughout the duration of the week.
The school wasn't bad, it was just unnecessarily difficult paired with an arduous commute each morning and afternoon. I grew from not minding the daily Metra rides to deploring them.
They're awful. They're noisy, bumpy, uncomfortable, often smell of unburned hydrocarbons from the archaic diesel engine that drives the polished steel barge that carries miserable business people and students to their miserable businesses and schools.
Above all, they're not even particularly fast. Honestly, Metra trains are reminders of what the British Revolutionary-era steam-powered trains were like, the ones that rocketed that nation to economic prosperity in the 1800s.
We are living so behind the times; where bullet trains in Europe and Japan reign.