Before today

I complained when trains hit pedestrians.

They deserve it, I used to say. If they’re stupid enough to not heed the signals, they should die.

And then today I felt it happen.

I felt the train hit the person.

I heard the ugly, nauseating, rushing, brushing sound of something like a wet tree branch alongside my train car. It seemed to last forever but probably only went on for 20 seconds. Twenty seconds that amounted to a half mile while the train slowed.
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Today marks one year with my current company.

I’ve got a performance review coming up and was using the quiet train time to look over last year’s calendar so that I can document everything I’ve done.

I came to those two really bad days back in August. Remember?

10 a.m. webcast, train ahead of mine hits woman on bike, late, late, late, LiveMeeting fuck-up only five people can access and Mom said “Bet you’re glad you’re not that woman on the bike.” Next day: Medinah event cancelled, forgot to call One Very Important Guy, Very Pissed Off, and Mom said: “Bet you wish you were the woman on the bike.”

The urgent train horn interrupted the bad memory and that’s right when it hit the pedestrian. What are the odds?
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All of us unloaded about half a mile from the Downers Grove Main train station.

Jumping out of a train car without a platform isn’t easy. Especially with a bad knee. But there were guys standing outside to help.

I walked up to the scene. I don’t know why. Surprisingly few people were standing there.

One large piece of yellow tarp covering part of the remains. Another medium-sized tarp 20 feet east covering more remains. At least 10 small pieces of red and white tarp held down by rocks covering up the . . . pieces.

“There are just too many pieces everywhere. It will be a long time before another train runs east today,” said the police officer standing just beyond the yellow crime scene tape.
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So now I am home. It’s lovely outside.
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I am reading: work e-mail
I am listening to: the birds chirping
And I am: disturbed