Arrived home safely from a 3-day trip to Chicago. It’s the third time I’ve been there, but the first time I’ve had a fun time – (perhaps it was my previous traveling companions???) Our tour guide/hostess is a true Chicagoan – which I call “She-kaw-gan”!
On Saturday we went to the Art Institute of Chicago, via train. I must mention here that I’m a small town gal – born in Batesville, Indiana, raised in Cincinnati, Ohio (which, while considered a “major city”, isn’t really all that large) and now living in rural Indiana.
I must also mention that it was my first train ride – other than the usual tourist trains here and there. So I was as excited as a little kid. And, just like a little kid, I managed to make a fool of myself! (For those of you who know me and know how dorky and daft I can be, this should come as no surprise).
After we had boarded, we were walking single file through the train – our hostess, my friend and myself. Much to my horror, the door to the next car closed in my face and I was frantic – so, of course, I let out a shriek. My friend turned around to see my look of horror, whereupon she began to laugh, but did bail me out by opening the door – which I thought I could not open myself due to the sign on the door which said “Do Not Open Door”. Well, she let me into the next car, much to the highlight of all of the She-kaw-gans there! The first few groups, closest to the door, who had probably heard but not seen the shriek had a shocked and surprised look on their faces – not sure what was going on and whether they were included in it(!) while the next few groups had most likely seen, rather than heard, and so were laughing at my expense. By the time I got through that train car I was laughing at myself and fully expected a round of applause (and somewhat disappointed I didn’t get it!).
But wait, there’s more!
After we de-boarded (is that a word??) at the station I was taking a photo of the rafters – after all, I am an artist! – when, much to my amusement I overheard two people next to me talking – “look, that’s the woman who got stuck between the cars, taking a picture of the ceiling”.
Well, I’m sure I’ve got quite the reputation now – probably along the lines of “that poor old lady with dementia”.
On Saturday we went to the Art Institute of Chicago, via train. I must mention here that I’m a small town gal – born in Batesville, Indiana, raised in Cincinnati, Ohio (which, while considered a “major city”, isn’t really all that large) and now living in rural Indiana.
I must also mention that it was my first train ride – other than the usual tourist trains here and there. So I was as excited as a little kid. And, just like a little kid, I managed to make a fool of myself! (For those of you who know me and know how dorky and daft I can be, this should come as no surprise).
After we had boarded, we were walking single file through the train – our hostess, my friend and myself. Much to my horror, the door to the next car closed in my face and I was frantic – so, of course, I let out a shriek. My friend turned around to see my look of horror, whereupon she began to laugh, but did bail me out by opening the door – which I thought I could not open myself due to the sign on the door which said “Do Not Open Door”. Well, she let me into the next car, much to the highlight of all of the She-kaw-gans there! The first few groups, closest to the door, who had probably heard but not seen the shriek had a shocked and surprised look on their faces – not sure what was going on and whether they were included in it(!) while the next few groups had most likely seen, rather than heard, and so were laughing at my expense. By the time I got through that train car I was laughing at myself and fully expected a round of applause (and somewhat disappointed I didn’t get it!).
But wait, there’s more!
After we de-boarded (is that a word??) at the station I was taking a photo of the rafters – after all, I am an artist! – when, much to my amusement I overheard two people next to me talking – “look, that’s the woman who got stuck between the cars, taking a picture of the ceiling”.
Well, I’m sure I’ve got quite the reputation now – probably along the lines of “that poor old lady with dementia”.
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