A bad end to a great day

Wednesday, September 23, 2009 by Matt

I found myself slowly wandering around the loop, the darkness upon me, and rain coming down. It was Sunday evening, and I should have been at home with my wife, curled up to a movie on the couch, quietly winding down the weekend.

I'm here every weekday, walking these streets, heading somewhere. But this was different. It was not a weekday with lively business crowds and tourists out and about. It was dark and empty out - hardly a passerby or someone in my way. I was also soaked, and angry.

I had no reason to be angry - the afternoon was wonderful, all things considered. Just a few hours earlier, I was standing for the national anthem sung by Wayne Messmer, in our seats that were adjacent to the goal line on the north end of Soldier Field. The afternoon was cool, overcast but not yet rainy, and perfect for a big-time football game.

I was excited like a little kid. The atmosphere was electric. Fans from both teams stood to honor the nation's tribute, with real red rockets fired off at that point during the anthem. I had consumed a beer already, and had a slight buzz brewing.

I was at my first Bears game in over four years, with my life-long friend Noel who I also hadn't seen in a while. There was no place I'd rather be in the world than right there, at that moment.

And that's when the two fighter jets came soaring from the south, turning their bodies in sync as they descended slightly over the field, and blasted by with such speed and force, rendering any description futile. The sound was massive, capped off by fans cheering so loud, I could hardly hear myself think.

"Unbelievable," I thought.

The players and fans were fired up - it was time to play some football.

The game didn't let down, and ended up being won by the Bears with a field goal at the very end. We had just beat the Pittsburgh Steelers, at home, and the feeling was great.

But I had to get out of there.

I was intending to catch the 6:40 PM Metra leaving Union, and arriving back home around 7:30. This, I thought, would give me plenty of time to get some dinner with Michelle and her friend Heather, who was spending the night. "I may also have another beer or two at home," I thought. Why not? It was a great day, all around.

Due to the strict train schedule, I had prepared myself for the inevitablility of having to leave before the game ended. I had to get on the 6:40 train because the next one was not until 8:40, not getting me home until 9:30, or close to 10 PM.

Turns out the game ended with just enough time for me to make it back to the train... or so I thought.

Once I was assured Robbie Gould's field goal attempt had split the uprights, I made my escape to the exits. I was out before anyone - in the concourse looking for the exit. It was 6:10 PM, and I had exactly 30 minutes to get about three miles, which would be very tricky. I had planned on grabbing the first cab I saw, and I was off to a good start.

Those who have been to Soldier Field know it's not the easiest place in the world to evacuate. Getting out of the field is one thing. Then there's the long walk along the lakefront back to Michigan Avenue.

I had to move, and move quick. If nothing got in my way, I'd make it five minutes before the train departed. I was confident and on the move.

A few others had made the immediate exit after the winning field goal, so we were all looking for the same exit. A security guard was standing by, and we asked him how to get out of the place. He motioned to a door right near an "Exit" sign, so we all bolted towards it.

The door opened to a metal stairwell. It seemed legit. Down we all went at a rapid pace, our feet pounding the metal, echoing through the stairwell. "This is great," I thought. I'd be out of there in no time. "Even if I have to jog back to Michigan Avenue, I should have no crowd in my way."

Pretty soon we came to the bottom of the stairs. A single door awaited us. Suddenly we didn't feel so confident. We pushed through the door to a small corridor area, with no indication of a way out. Some other security guards began to inform us that we were in the wrong spot, and we should not be down there.

There were some elevators which we were suggested to take back up. After waiting a few minutes, the elevators had still not arrived. We were then informed that we needed to climb back up the stairs to where we came from, and exit the field another way.

Bummer. Not only did it take a while to climb all the way up the same stairs we just came down, we ended up in the same place we started, only this time we were not the only ones trying to exit.

Anger swelled over me. How could the security guard mislead us out the place? Isn't he supposed to know where the exits are?

I was back on the same level I most eagerly departed from only ten minutes earlier. But I was jammed between people, and moving forward was only occurring at a snail's pace.

Looking at the time, I saw that I had only 25 minutes to get from that very spot, in a crammed Soldier Field, all the way to Union Station. I tried pushing and nudging my way around people, but every time I seemed to get ahead, a cluster of people stopped me yet again.

The realization finally hit me - I was going to miss the 6:40 train, meaning I was destined for two more Sunday evening hours wandering aimlessly around the chilly and rainy city. This thought angered me greatly. After all, I was the responsible one. I had left early, and beat the crowd. I was on time, until the security guard mislead me.

I had planned on going home early to maybe watch a movie, and get some dinner with Michelle and her friend. But at this rate, I would not be home until almost 10 PM on a Sunday night. There wasn't much time for anything, after that.

I finally reached Michigan Avenue at about 6:35 PM. This would not be enough time to get me to Union.

Slowly I started walking towards Union anyway, my sweatshirt soaked from the rain, and upbeat Bears fans cheering everywhere. I wasn't sharing their sentiments at that moment.

I called Michelle, and she offered to pick me up, even though I felt terrible for ruining her evening with her friend, and making her drive all the way from Roselle into the loop on a Sunday evening.

She ended up doing me the favor, and I am greatly appreciative. But I am still mad that I was mis-directed. If it was my fault, and I had stayed late celebrating the game's end, then I wouldn't feel so bad for missing the train - because at least I would have had fun. But I was responsible, and still got the bad end of the stick.

In the end, though, the one I love came through for me - and made a frustrating evening just a little bit better. Heck, a lot better.

So, thank you, Michelle, for being there for me, as you always are.

Comments

# Carissa at 9/23/2009 10:15 pm cst

That sounds very frustrating, but at least you had your hero in the end :)

# Dave at 9/24/2009 7:21 pm cst

Did you ever get that beer...or two when you got home? :)

# Matt at 9/25/2009 8:00 am cst

I ended up **not** getting those couple beers at home. :-(