One of my AlternaChick gal pals, Chelsie Lee--recently went to Chicago. On the way to the Windy City, she gave me a frantic phone call about something that happened during the ride. I thought she could tell you exactly what happened, herself. The following is a chronicling of the insanity as regaled to me by Chelsie.

Unfortunately, it’s back to work for me after an exciting weekend in Chicago. I have to say I think it is one of the best cities in the nation and it’s close proximity to G.R. is definitely a plus! The weekend was a success, but getting there was a completely different story.

Most of the time, when I go to the windy city--it’s by car. Due to gas prices, this time I decided to take the train from Grand Rapids. I wasn’t sure what to expect on the good ole' fashioned rail, because it was my first time. So, I booked a ticket from Grand Rapids to Chicago leaving on a Wednesday evening. My only choice for that evening was to get a bus ticket to Kalamazoo. From there, I would take the train. Sounded good enough to me.


If you’ve ever been to the Amtrak station in Grand Rapids, you know it is pretty tiny. I was the only person there! Eventually two other people did show up, and I am so glad they did. We waited for the bus and it was like an hour late!

Once I climbed aboard the bus I immediately noticed it was packed full of people and there were hardly any open seats left. I climbed into what appeared to be an open row of seats and sat down. After about 5 minutes, this sloppy guy came out of nowhere and sat down RIGHT next to me. Actually he sat down on my bag from which I had to pry out from under his mentally unstable butt-cheeks.

I could immediately tell something was not right with him. Alcohol or Drugs, something was bizarre. He was muttering in Spanish and kept inappropriately touching my arm. This man had a phd in social malfunction! I did let it slide the first time he touched me on the arm. It was the second time that pushed me to the limit. I told him he needed to keep his hands to himself or get in a different seat.

I tried giving him the "buzz off" vibe when I put my headphones in and pretended to be reading something. He was clearly not taking the hint. He touched me on the arm again and was speaking Spanish to me once again.

By this time a few of the passengers around me had noticed I was having problems with this guy and were turning around to ask if I was okay. No! I was not okay! I shoved the guys arm aside, grabbed my bag and basically hurled myself into the aisle to find another seat. He kept saying “No problemo” My inner monologue, however, sounded more like--“Si, MUCHO PROBLEMO.” I wish I had paid more attention in Spanish class so I could have told this weirdo what I really thought of him. Geez!

Any ways, it was THEEE longest ride to Kzoo ever. I was so tense when I got off the bus, but hung out with some other passengers as we exited.