CHANGE OF LIFE - Chapter 5

The next morning I was awakened with the call to breakfast by the sleeping car steward. He knocked on the door to my room and told me that my time for breakfast in the dining car was 7:45. That gave me more than half an hour to get dressed and ready for breakfast. I went down the aisle to the bathroom carrying my towel. I took a quick shower, not knowing when I would have the next opportunity to do so. Hurrying back to my roomette, I was grateful that no one else was in the aisle. I didn’t have a bathrobe. I had to wear my sleeping gown. Where it became wet, it was almost transparent.

I packed all the items that had been drying overnight, dressed and was ready to go to the dining car on time. I hung my sleeping gown from the top rack so that it would dry.

In the dining car I was seated with two other women. The table had a clean linen table cloth and the eating utensils were silver. A waiter came to take our orders. I was ready to eat a hearty breakfast. I ordered bacon and eggs, two pieces of toast, orange juice, and coffee. The other two ladies ordered rather skimpy meals. They were both dressed in skirts and white silk blouses. The skirts looked to be part of a suit. One woman was wearing pearls, the other was wearing a jeweled necklace. They were finished eating before I was and they left the table. The meal was included in the sleeping car ticket. They didn’t leave a tip.

Clothing doesn’t give you class, but their nice clothes made me conscious of how plain my own clothes are. Months ago I bought two wrinkle-resistant dresses to take on the cruise (now my escape). If they were hung up while still damp, there were no wrinkles when they were dry. They were all right for wearing around the house or going to the store, but in this company they looked plain. I did not have any nice clothes. Willard never took me out. We didn’t go to church. Where would I wear nice clothes?  When I finished eating, I left two dollars by my plate.

When I returned to my roomette, the sleeping car attendant was finishing up folding the beds away and restoring the seats to their position. I gave him five dollars and he thanked me.

“Have you been to the Union Station in Chicago before?” he asked.

“No.”

“It is an awfully busy place. Hang on to your ticket and when you get into the station ask directions to the Metropolitan Lounge. It is only for sleeping car passengers. You will have to show your ticket to get in there. It is a good place to pause, collect your wits. There are dozens of comfortable lounge chairs, free snacks, telephones and computers, maps of Chicago. Some of the nicest people in Chicago work there.”

“Thank you so much.”

I opened the curtain to my roomette so that I could see the people walking up and down the aisles. I watched out the windows at the towns and farms going by. I wished that I had a book , a magazine, or a newspaper to read. I decided to walk through the train. When I got to the end of the car the dining car was next. I tried walking in the opposite direction. That brought me to those narrow steep metal stairs. I wasn’t going to attempt those while the train was moving.

At 11:30 AM the sleeping car attendant came to each roomette with their time to go to the dining car for lunch. My time was 12:20 PM. For lunch I had tomato bisque soup, a turkey sandwich, a fruit cup, and a cup of decaf coffee. An elderly couple sat across from me. I was pleased to see that they left a tip for the servers. I also left a tip.

When the train arrived in Chicago, Union Station was as crowded and busy as it had been described. I asked for directions to the Metropolitan Lounge. The entrance is up a ramp. I walked by it twice before I saw the sign.

As I walked in the door, a man reached for my suitcase. He said,

“I’ll store this in here until you are ready to leave.”

There was a tall counter on the right with several people sitting behind it. A woman asked for my ticket, glanced at it and then handed me a pass. “This will allow you to go in and out of the Lounge all day. When you are ready to leave, turn it in with your claim ticket for your carry-on baggage.”

On the front of the counter were racks with several rows of brochures. Some were for Amtrak, but many others were about Chicago or towns around Chicago. I went toward a row of overstuffed chairs and sofas. On the way I picked up a cup of coffee and a snack. Sitting in the chair I went through the brochures and then opened the map. Going to a computer, I began a search of motels in Chicago, looking to see if they had weekly rates.

I found a place called Hosteling International. There were female dormitories, eight to a room, and shared bathroom for $33 a night including a continental breakfast. That was exactly what I needed; I made reservations for a week. Next I went to the website of Chicago Transit Authority and got directions from Union Station to the hostel. “Walk east on Jackson to the Chicago River, take a #126 bus and ride down Jackson to Wabash. Get off at Wabash and walk south to East Congress Parkway, then walk west on E. Congress a half block to Hosteling International – Chicago”.

With that taken care of, I decided to go outside, walk around the outside of the station to find Jackson and walk down that street to the River to see if I could tell where the bus stop was. It is easier to scout out the way without a suitcase. As I was walking around the station, I found Jackson on one side of the Station. As I walked down Jackson I saw the Union Bakery. Going inside I ordered a turkey sandwich on pretzel bread to go. I also got a bottle of water.

 I’ll take that with me for my supper.

My plan was to spend the first week in Chicago getting acquainted with the city. I wanted to locate several places where I would like to live. Once I found a place to live, then I could go about looking for a job.

I went back into the station and into the Lounge to retrieve my suitcase. I put the bottle of water in my suitcase but had to carry the bag with the sandwich and potato chips. Outside, I walked to the bus stop and waited. When I got on, I asked the driver to call out Wabash (where I needed to get off).

I checked into the hostel. The clerk was pleasant ,but told me that I would have to eat my food in the kitchen, I couldn’t carry food into the dormitory. After I paid for seven nights and a membership in Hosteling International, I went to the kitchen. There were different people in there cooking. Several were Indians who were cooking rice and something with a strong onion or garlic odor. At another counter a girl who looked Scandinavian was preparing something in a bowl.

As I was beginning to eat, a college age girl with a New England accent said to me,

“Oh, that looks so good. Could I have a piece of it?”

The sandwich was much larger than what I could eat. They sold half sandwiches at the bakery and that is probably what I should have ordered. The sandwich had been sliced in half. I smiled and handed the girl the other half.

“Oh, you are so generous. May I sit with you?  I see that you are married. Is your husband staying in the male dormitory?  I guess not or he would be out here sharing this sandwich. Pardon me, it is rude to be nosy.”

“Not at all. I left my husband several days ago, and came to Chicago to start a new life. I want to find out if I am worth anything as a person. I guess that sounds strange.”

“It isn’t strange if you know what it means.”

“What about you?”

“I am in college. I just finished my second year. I was supposed to go back to my parents’ home in Pennsylvania for the summer. Last week, I heard from my boy friend, ex-boy friend. He wanted to tell me, before I came back and found out , that he has been going with a girl in that town who has just graduated from high school. I feel like such a fool. I had been writing love letters to him every week, talking to him on the phone, and all along he was dating another girl! I decided to travel around the country this summer. I have money in the bank that I thought I was saving for my wedding trousseau.”

“For the past five years I had been saving money for a Caribbean cruise on our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. I was hoping that we could recapture the love that brought us together when we were first married. My husband didn’t want to go on a cruise. On our anniversary night I fixed a really nice dinner, wore my nicest clothes. He didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t bring me a card, or flowers, or candy. He didn’t even say “Happy Anniversary!”  So the next day I left.”

When we finished eating Gloria showed me the bulletin board. There were the rules, which was to be expected. There were also a dozen or more notices of activities in Chicago. The Hostel sponsored a walking tour of midtown Chicago several times a week.

We went back to the dormitory. There were bunk beds. Gloria showed me a bottom rack that wasn’t taken yet. I was surprised at how modern and clean everything was. There was a wall locker for each person. All eight occupants shared a bathroom. I opened my suitcase and unpacked.  The Hostel also had a laundry. So far all of my money was in my pocketbook. I’ll sleep with it, probably take it to the bathroom with me. I can’t open a bank account until I have an address.

Gloria asked if I would like to go out for a drink.

“No. I don’t drink and I don’t think I would be comfortable in a bar even if I only drank a cola. I have an awful lot that I need to sort out. I think I will take my maps and papers out to the lobby and sit in one of the comfortable chairs out there.”

I took my notebook and the maps and brochures out to the lobby and tried to find a place to be alone. In my notebook I wrote the things that I wanted to do tomorrow.

I will divide my money, put part of it in my suitcase, some in my pocketbook, some in my wallet, some in my pocket so that if I lose some, or have some of it taken from me, I won’t be altogether without cash. I can’t open a bank account without an address. I can’t get a driver’s license or even a photo identification card without an address. I wondered how I could pay the credit card I had in my maiden name without a bank account or an address.

I can foresee that I will probably have to give my former residence in job applications. That brought up the question of whether it is necessary to try to hide from Willard where I am.

I am going to buy a “disposable” phone, a cell phone for which you can buy minutes cards in retail stores. When I do, I will decide whether to call Willard.

I will also buy a transit card. The fare is $2.25. It is inconvenient to have to have the right change every time you get on a bus or train. I thought that a 30-day pass was slightly less than $90. Tomorrow I will ride on an elevated train just to see what it is like and how well I can orient the actual ride with the maps that I have. I want to find an old neighborhood where I can rent just a room.

I said that I was running away to find out for myself if I have any self-worth, if I have anything to contribute to life. What is it that I want to do, what is it that I want to be?