Drink, don't drive, at Chicago's train-friendly pubs

by John Greenfield

[These write-ups also appeared in Time Out Chicago magazine, www.timeoutchicago.com]

Recent surveys show that Chicago has the highest gasoline prices in the country at $4.50 per gallon. That calculates to roughly four cents per ounce, the same price as Walgreen's Big Flats beer, $2.99 for a six-pack. Factor in the dangers of drunk driving, and it makes a lot of sense to take transit to taverns and spend the money you save on gas on beer instead. Here are some suggestions for interesting, off-the-beaten-path watering holes that are adjacent or a short walk from CTA, Metra and South Shore Line stations.

CTA O'Hare Line Harlem stop

Avant Garde
5241 N. Harlem Ave., Norwood Park
(773)594-9742

Just south of the Harlem Blue Line station, this black-windowed storefront, formerly Mario’s Café, houses a surprisingly sleek Bulgarian nightspot. Blood-red walls, plush black sofas and silver banquettes, plus abstract sculptural elements suspended from the, create an ambiance worthy of the bar’s name, while stylishly-dressed, dark-eyed young women kibbutz in Bulgarian over throbbing Eurodisco. To sample the cuisine, a mix of Mediterranean and Slavic influences, try a katino meze: a mix of fried chicken, pork and beef tongue with mushrooms, onions, pickles, garlic and feta. Wash it down with a Shumensko beer ($5) or a shot of rakia, a Bulgarian brandy.

And to top it off: A spiky-haired bartender juggles bottles and glasses ala Tom Cruise in “Cocktail.”

Metra's Milwaukee District North Healy stop

The Levee
4035 W. Fullerton Ave., Kelvyn Park
773-342-2808

A tree trimmed into the shape of a beer bottle standing beside this homey tavern is a sign you’ve found dive bar gold. The front room features a serpentine brass bar, while the walls of the lodge-like back room are decorated with antique tools and a series of Abe Lincoln prints. Teachers from nearby Kelvyn Park High stop by on Fridays for Heinekens, Coronas and free barbecue. Owner Warren Johnson is an ex-Marine who played semi-pro football with the Chicago Gladiators in the ‘70s. He shows off a scrapbook of vintage ads for gorgeous former proprietor Trudy De Ring, who performed burlesque under the stage name Radiana in the ‘30s.

And to top it off: The plush barstools are the most comfortable in the city, salvaged from skyboxes during the Soldier Field rehab.


CTA Pink Line Damen stop

Martin's Corner
2058 W. 22nd Pl., Pilsen
773-847-5515

This family-owned tavern has operated since 1951 on a back street of Pilsen, kitty-corner from the twin spires of St. Paul’s Church – current owner Bob Martin attended the adjacent Catholic school. A mix of the neighborhood’s Latinos and Anglos come to this sports pub for cheap burgers, chicken sandwiches and chops plus daily drink specials, like $4 pints of Spaten Octoberfest. The microbrew selection is impressive, including selections by Dogfish Head, Magic Hat and Delirium Tremens, plus Southern Tier’s Mokah stout on tap. Numerous Blackhawks photographs and jerseys autographed by Paul Konerko and Joe Montana, along with free pool, makes this a comfortable hang for local superfans.

And to top it off: A photo on the wall shows an elderly Rock Marciano playfully pummeling a young Muhammad Ali.

CTA Green Line's King Drive stop

Kozy Korner
641 E. King Dr., Woodlawn
773-833-2777

True to its name, this tavern is a relaxing oasis in rough-and-tumble Woodlawn, steps from the King Drive Green Line stop. In business since 1956, the bar features mirrors ringed with plastic roses, multiple portraits of Obama, and a large, old-fashioned lamppost in the middle of the room. Middle-aged and older men in Sox hats and Kangol caps drink bottles of MGD ($2.50) while sharply dressed ladies sip goblets of vodka and cranberry. The jukebox is well stocked with R & B dusties, and when “Honky Tonk” by James Brown comes on, women at one end of the bar start clapping along. There’s karaoke on Thursday nights with a prize for the best singer.

And to top it off: Ex-Chicago Defender gossip columnist Cliff Pierce is a regular.


South Shore Line Hegewisch stop

South Shore Inn
13611 S. Brainard Ave., Hegewisch
(773)646-0350

This shot-and-a beer joint, located across the street from a South Shore Line stop and catering to commuters and tradesmen, seems pleasantly frozen in time. The grandparents of current owner Dean Ubik bought the building in 1921 and it operated as a speakeasy during Prohibition, when “working girls” rented rooms upstairs. The tavern, last rehabbed in 1949, features sparkly gold vinyl booths and a gorgeous art deco bar with portals filled with knickknacks like antique radios and toy cowboys and Indians. Michelob, Bud Light and Amber Bock are on tap ($1.55/pint), and vintage ads for the train line and a stuffed deer head adorn the walls.

And to top it off: A collection of black-and-white family photos on the wall including pictures of Ubik’s mom’s bowling team and a local bocce league.


Mugs Bunny
13401 S. Baltimore Ave., Hegewisch
(773) 646-4560

This bare-bones dive, in operation since 1978 on Hegewisch’s main drag, probably takes the prize for Chicago’s most irresponsibly named bar. The grinning cartoon rabbit hoisting a brew on the sign threatens to lure children into a lifetime of boozing, although owner Keith Essary says he’s had no complaints. That said, this is a friendly place to sip dollar PBRs or down $5 Vegas bombs (Crown Royal, schnapps, cranberry and Red Bull) with local factory workers and police officers. The jukebox plays a mix of rock, country, punk and hip-hop, and the wood-paneled back room features darts and a Corvette pinball machine.

And to top it off: Mugs Bunny is home to one of the city’s few shuffleboard tables.

Rough ride: the transit agencies tighten their belts

By John Greenfield

Photos by Gilbert Feliciano

[This article also ran in New City magazine, www.newcity.com.]

On an icy Monday night a handful of citizens has braved to cold to visit the Loop office of the Regional Transit Authority, which sets the budgets and provides oversight for CTA, Metra and Pace. They’re here for the last of several public hearings on the RTA’s 2011 financial plan. Several of the attendees are transit activists who show up regularly for these kind of meetings. There are also a few people with disabilities here, and there’s a sign language interpreter at the front of the room.

Joseph Costello, the RTA’s mild-mannered executive director, starts the hearing by explaining how the sour economy has impacted the three transit agencies. Reduced consumer spending means the RTA’s largest source of public funding, a 1.5 percent cut of Cook County sales tax receipts plus .5 percent of receipts from the five collar counties, dropped from about $750 million in 2007 to roughly $650 in 2010. Meanwhile, the cash-strapped state government has been delaying its payments to the RTA, making it tough for the transit oversight body to pay its own bills.

Joseph Costello

In response to these funding problems Costello says CTA, Metra and Pace are making financial sacrifices. 2011 budgets are smaller, there have been over 1,000 employee layoffs and, like eighty percent of transit agencies around the country, they’ve cut service and hiked fares. On the bright side, while regional transit service has been reduced by three percent, ridership is only down by one percent, he says.

Although the three agencies will have smaller capital budgets next year, Costello says the RTA is studying the condition of tracks, stations and other infrastructure for future improvements. “The engineers tell us if we were to rebuild our regional transit system from scratch it would cost us $52 billion, so it’s a valuable asset we should invest in and preserve,” he says.

When the floor is opened to comments Heather Armstrong, who uses a wheelchair, argues that Metra and Pace offer cleaner buses and trains, and better customer service than CTA. “You should give the CTA train system to Metra and the bus system to Pace,” she says.

Charlie, a senior with a crew cut who’s a member of the transit workers union and the transit advocacy group Citizens Taking Action says he’s worried about future layoffs. “The union drivers ain’t got no contract,” he says. ‘Will there be three, four, five thousand more layoffs next year?”

The City of Evanston’s Matt Swentkofske says, “Evanston is very blessed to be served by CTA, Pace and Metra.” He asks Costello for help getting three rail viaducts rebuilt in the village. “Let us know what kind of lobbying we can do.”

Kevin Peterson, a young man in fatigues and combat boots who says he’s with the group Citizens Against Terrible Transit Service, rants against faulty fare cards, bus drivers who refuse to lower access ramps, and the RTA’s efforts to end the free rides for seniors program. “You guys are supposed to make sure CTA, Pace and Metra get along,” he says. “You’ve been deadbeat parents.”

An S24O to Chain O’ Lakes State Park

By John Greenfield

Grant Petersen from Rivendell Bicycle Works has written about the “Sub-24 Hour Overnight” as a type of bicycle travel anyone can do. Even if work and domestic obligations keep you from taking off a large chunk of time to go on a long-distance bike journey, you can squeeze a S24O into your schedule.

You simply pack your bicycle with camping gear, leave in the afternoon or evening, ride a couple hours, camp, sleep and ride home. This kind of trip is not so much about getting tons of miles in, but rather the transformative power of leaving your daily routine to go spend the night outdoors. Even if it’s only for one night, it’s worth it.

Petersen recommends driving out of urban areas to get to green space if necessary, but here in Chicago we’re lucky to have Metra, an extensive commuter rail system that allows bikes on board. There are a bunch of state parks that allow camping which are only a short bicycle ride away from Metra stations: Illinois Beach, Rock Cut, Shabonna Lake, Kankakee River and Big Foot Beach. In southern Wisconsin, only 13.5 miles from Metra’s Antioch station, is Bong Recreation Area – put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Last Saturday, a few of my bike buddies did a fairly spontaneous camping trip to Chain O’ Lakes State Park in northwest Chicagoland, near the Cheddar Curtain. The Chain O’ Lakes area includes several good-sized lakes, some of them three or four miles long, popular with boaters and fisher-folk. For most of our crew this is truly a S24O – they catch the train in the afternoon northwest to the Fox Lake station and pedal a mere five miles to the campground, returning early the next afternoon.


My friend Kevin and I decide to get some more biking in by catching a different train west that morning to Elgin and pedaling up the Fox River and Prairie trails most of the way to the park, making it a 40-mile day. Arriving at this river town of about 100,000, we eat a hearty Thai lunch at the subterranean Bangkok House, 11-15 N. Douglas. Afterwards, Kevin grabs an espresso at nearby Domani Café, a tiny Italian coffeehouse at 109 E. Highland.


We pick up the paved Fox River Trail and start heading north past a small island in the river with a picnic pagoda, a small dam, then a Soviet-style sculpture or a pioneer family. What started out as chilly, drizzly day has turned lovely with fluffy clouds in the cobalt sky. As the trail continues out of town into wooded areas we thrill to the fall colors.

We stop in East Dundee, formerly home to the slightly creepy amusement park, Santa’s Village, to check out the trailside Bicycle Garage, 11 Jackson, an old-fashioned shop with a vintage J. C. Higgins on the sales floor. Nearby a farmers-and-flea market is shutting down but one booth still has a good selection of pumpkins and gourds.

Vintage Panasonic banner at the Bicycle Garge

In Algonquin the trail leaves the river and changes names. We stop at Prairie Trail Bike Shop, a more modern trailside store at 315 Railroad St. I duck in to check out the merchandise while Kevin remains outside. “You’ve obviously come a long way,” says the owner,” looking out the window at our camping gear. “And your friend’s even smoking a cigarette.”

Continuing past areas with tall grasses and fading wildflowers, we stop at a supermarket in McHenry to pick up groceries. As I’m waiting outside with the bikes an older woman comes outside and unlocks her mountain bike. She tells me she commutes 18 miles each way during the summer to her job in Barrington. “Biking is a good way to get around,” I say. “Yes,” she says. “It’s good for you, it saves gas and it’s good for the environment.” “And it’s fun,” I add.

When Kevin returns, he tells me he just had a run-in with a tough guy in the bakery section. My friend’s wearing an army jacket and a furry Elmer Fudd hat. The tough guy said, “I thought Halloween doesn’t come until next week.” Kevin answered, “Actually, it’s two weeks.” This story reminds me of Bob Segar’s song about touring with a band, “Turn the Page”: “Well you walk into a restaurant, strung out from the road / You can feel the eyes upon you as you try to shake the cold /You pretend it doesn’t bother you, but you just want to explode [saxophone wail].”

We leave the trail and head past Johnsburg, Illinois. Singer Tom Waits’ wife grew up on a farm here, so he wrote her a love song with the town’s name as its title. The terrain is getting surprisingly hilly for Chicagoland – at times I’m actually getting down in my drops and whizzing down the hillsides.


Soon we’re at a back entrance to the state park and before heading to our friends’ campsite we make our way to a boat launch to check out Grass Lake before the sun sets. A group of kayakers is heading back to shore. On another camping trip here a few years ago a friend and I rented a canoe and paddled out to Blarney Island, a floating Jimmy Buffet bar in the middle of the lake, but unfortunately it’s closed for the season.

We find our friends Corey, Mario and Mr. Bike at their nicely wooded non-electric site, and the fellows are already in good spirits. As darkness falls the temperature drops and I keep needing to add layers of clothing to stay warm.

We light a roaring fire and prepare a feast: bread and brie with homemade pesto; tostadas with black beans, cheddar, tomatoes and salsa; fresh steamed vegetables; and a Tofurkey, a soy-based turkey substitute that looks like a large softball. I cut the orb into thick slices and sauté it in butter and it’s not too bad. Afterwards we stay warm around the fire with whisky and fat White Owl “New Yorker” cigars. Mr. Bike and I exchange terrible puns.


Sleepy, I snuggle fully clothed into my medium-weight sleeping bag on a thick inflatable ground pad inside my tiny one-man tent and stay roasty-toasty all night, despite the sub-freezing temperatures. In the morning all of our gear is covered with a thin layer of frost.


After a quick breakfast of instant coffee and pop tarts, Kevin and I pack up and pedal to the town of Fox Lake. With time to kill we grab a second meal at the cozy trackside Whistle Stop diner. I scarf down a warming, calorie-dense Cowboy Skillet: eggs, potatoes, cheese, diced sausage and gravy, served with a biscuit.


Soon we’re onboard the train that will take us back to the city, only slightly late for my noon shift at the bike shop where I work. At the Libertyville stop, for some reason a group of well-dressed professionals is standing outside holding picket signs reading “Free Hugs” for “Global Free Hugs Day.” I say, “Gee, I didn’t even know Hugs was in prison.”

Transit-friendly Taverns

Drink and don't drive at these station saloons

by John Greenfield

[This piece also runs in Time Out Chicago, www.timeoutchicago.com.]

Metra’s beloved bar cars made their final run last August, but you can still railroad tie one on at taverns inside the stations while waiting for the 6:15. And thanks to liberal alcohol policies on regional rail (hear that CTA?) all these pubs offer to-gos to enjoy on your car-free commute. Be sure to toast the poor souls stuck in buzz-killing traffic on the expressways.

By the Great Hall at Union Station, 200 S. Canal, Metro Deli and Café has old-timey décor like a photo of Richard J. grinning under a “We love Mayor Daley” banner. Goose Island and Blue Moon are on tap at the large, oval bar, and there’s pool tables, video poker and Wednesday karaoke. Upstairs in the food court the three-level bar the Snuggery features vintage photos of greats like Louis Armstrong and Muddy Waters. A barmaid at a separate station sells tallboy and drafts in lidded plastic cups to time-strapped salarymen.

Next stop: De-train at Aurora on Metra’s Burlington/Santa Fe Line and keep the party rolling at Walter Payton’s Roundhouse (205 N Broadway, Aurora, 630-264-2739) next to the station.

South Siders departing Metra’s LaSalle Street Station, 440 S. LaSalle, buy beer, wine and Margaritas from the trackside Club Car kiosk, in business for 24 years. There’s no proper bar in the building but around the corner, under the Loop elevated tracks, the transit-themed Sky Ride Tap, 105 W. Van Buren, sells cans and cocktails in Styrofoam cups for carry-out. Metra-sexuals dig the foxy bartenders at this 35-year-old, wood-paneled dive; others kill time with Golden Tee and video bowling.

Next stop: Head to Sean’s Rhino Bar (10330 S Western Ave, 773-238-2060) near the Rock Island Line. Sean’s is one of several quality South Side Irish pubs just four blocks from the 103rd Street Station.

In February Bar Millennium, a slick sports pub, opened in Millennium Station, 151 N. Randolph. Dance music blares and cool vintage beer cans cover one of the walls. There’s draft Guiness and Fat Tire; pies are available from Chi-Town Pizza next door; and a tub girl sells tallboys, wine and airline-size liquor to hurrying Metra and South Shore riders.

Next stop: Head to Indiana’s tranquil Dunewood Campground (Hwy 12 and Broadway, Beverly Shores, 219-926-7561) by boarding the South Shore Line. It’s a great respite after the station bar’s overload of flat-screens and Lady Gaga.

Ogilvie Transportation Center, 500 W. Madison, boasts two track-level taverns. The swanky, dimly-lit Rail Club has an octagonal dark-wood and brass bar, Art Deco hanging lamps, and a mural featuring a locomotive, Rolls Royce, ocean liner, bi-plane and zeppelin. The Chicago News Room features metal cut-outs of the world’s continents behind the bar and clocks that tell time in Chicago, NYC, London, Paris, Switzerland and Japan – set ten minutes fast, so tanked Metra riders won’t miss their trains.

Next stop: Ride to the Arlington Park stop on the Union Pacific Northwest Line to play the ponies at Arlington racetrack (2200 W Euclid Ave, Arlington Heights, 847-385-7500)

A mellow, multi-modal Michigan meander

By John Greenfield

One reason I’m glad I cycled 5,000 miles coast-to-coast last year is now I feel like I’ve got nothing to prove when it comes to bike touring. As long as I’ve got my bicycle with me and get a few miles of pedaling in it doesn’t matter what other non-car transportation modes I use – it’s a bike trip. Or at least a trip worth taking.

Case in point is a circuit of lower Lake Michigan I took last month. Although I covered a lot of ground with my bicycle in tow I didn’t actually ride much more than a hundred miles, but this actually enhanced the experience.

Instead of my usual death-march mileage, the relaxed pace left me time to take walks in the woods and hang out on the beach before hitting the road to the next destination. Of course, a truly pro cycle tourist would leave early and get the day’s pedaling done before sightseeing. Maybe next time I'll do it this way.

This excursion was inspired by a Time Out Chicago issue about Lake Michigan getaways and a yen to escape the big city and catch some sunsets over water. I was also curious to try the high-speed ferry from Milwaukee to Muskegon, MI. I’d already ridden the entire perimeter of the lake in stages before so this jaunt was about R & R rather than breaking new ground.

I loaded my bike with full camping gear and caught Metra commuter rail up to Kenosha, WI, early Monday morning. As usual I’d stayed up late packing and hadn’t slept much so I snoozed during most of the hour-and-a-half train ride.

Taking a combo of Rte. 32 and off-street trails I covered the 35 miles to the ferry dock on the south side of Milwaukee with just enough time left to catch the boat without panicking. Next time I’d book in advance, though, since tickets were almost sold out. The slower Manitowac, WI, – Luddington, MI, ferry further north was cancelled due to mechanical problems so the high-speed ferry was picking up the slack.

One of the main functions of the ferries are to serve as a shortcut for drivers who want to avoid Chicagoland congestion, and the lower deck of the boat was packed with cars, RVs and motorcycles – mine was the only bicycle.

If you take the ferry, take Dramamine if you’re prone to seasickness, since it’s a surprisingly rocky ride, and bring a jacket it you want to hang out on deck. The ship moves so fast, what seems like 80 mph, that it kicks up a powerful, chilly breeze and it’s hard to stay outdoors to enjoy the beautiful views. However, the large cabin was full of miserable-looking people with their heads in their hands since stuffy air exacerbates seasickness.


I spent a lot of the ride lying on the deck behind a low front wall near the axis of the ship to minimize the wave motion. But I had fun anyway, chatting with a middle-aged waitress from Ann Arbor and a grizzled Harley rider from Muskegon who was drinking High Life out of a plastic bottle, both of them on their backs as well.

Muskegon’s the largest city on the east coast of Lake Michigan, a down-on-it’s-luck paper mill town of about 40,000. The under-populated downtown is a little depressing but there’s a great bike path that rings much of five-mile-long Lake Muskegon, populated by a colony of swans.


On my way to a state park north of the city I stopped for a pint at the Bear Lake Tavern, recommended by the motorcyclist. Striking up a conversation about the Chinese Olympics with an old-timer at the bar who turned out be a Korean War vet, I received a fascinating lecture on the different styles of communism practiced in these countries, Vietnam and Cuba. He also told me about his experiences in the army during the early days of racial integration. This card-carrying NRA member had a pretty different worldview than me but I could have sat there and listened to his stories for hours.

The state park was full and the ranger was unaware of the rule in Michigan that touring cyclists can not be refused a patch of ground to pitch a tent, which has served me well on other occasions. But she sent me up the road to Pioneer County Park, which was just fine.

The place was swarming with kids and adults cruising around on bikes, the most I’d ever seen at a campground, including an older couple on a homemade, side-by-side recumbent tandem that seemed to be fashioned out of La-Z-Boy recliners. I made a b-line to the Lake Michigan beach just in time to have a pleasantly existential moment while watching the sundown and sipping Captain Morgan’s.


I spent the next day strolling on the sparsely populated shoreline and reading on the sand, although water temperature in the fifties made it pretty impossible to swim. That evening I headed back into the city to meet up with my coworker Doug and his girlfriend Jenny who were, coincidentally, doing a more ambitious two-week trip, pedaling north from Muskegon to the Upper Peninsula then south to Green Bay, WI.

Doug and I stocked up on bread, dry sausage and Tasmanian smoked cheddar at The Cheese Lady at 808 Terrace St., one of a handful of interesting new independent businesses that are helping to spark a downtown revival. Jenny met us at the Tipsy Toad Tavern, 609 W. Western Ave., where we watched another fine sunset from the excellent rooftop and sampled “jumpers” – chewy French-fried frogs’ legs.

Doug offers sausage to a two-dimensional Muskegonite

After a stroll through the town’s gorgeous little garden, which was supposedly inspired by the colors of a Monet painting, they retired to their B & B. I headed a few miles south in the dark towards P. J. Hoffmaster State Park through a surprisingly long stretch of auto-centric development which abruptly turned into silent countryside.

In the morning I checked out the park’s large interpretive center detailing the history of the Michigan Dunes, then climbed said dunes and took another long hike along the shore. Then I got back in the saddle and rode a few miles to Grand Haven, a tourist town of about 11,000.

At the local history museum there was a great little exhibit called “Circles in Motion: the American Bicycle 1860 – 2008.” The models on display included wooden “boneshakers,” high-wheelers, classic ‘50s cruisers and beefy WWI-era military cycles. Just the displays of cycling medals and head-plates were amazing. My favorite was for the “Lincoln” made by the Chicago Cycle Supply Company, featuring the image of Honest Abe standing solemnly in front of his chair.


I pedaled another 30 miles to Holland State Park, just west of the city of Holland, Michigan’s tulip growing capital, of course. Heading to the beach I had another Zen moment watching the sun sink over the water as a young park employee swept sand off a long walkway like a Buddhist monk cleaning the temple. A tourist came up and told her that it would be a lot faster to use an electric blower on the sand. “That would be too noisy,” she replied. “It would spoil the sunset,” I said.

As I was pitching my tent in the dark (yes, even the low mileage didn’t keep me from setting up camp late most nights), two parents from the Kalamazoo area came up and asked me to give some tips to their daughter. She was about to start community college and was interested in biking to school and doing some overnight trips.

I happily went into bike salesman mode explaining the features of my touring bike. I tried to be polite when the girl showed me her department store road bike which sadly looked unfit for any kind of utilitarian use – it’d be hard even to install a rack on it. Afterwards I made myself a delicious makeshift fondue, cooking the Tasmanian cheddar with white wine and sausage grease over my camp stove and dipping bread and veggies in it.


The next day while picnicking by the water in the small town of Saugatuck, I watched the Saugatuck Chain Ferry, an old-fashioned hand-cranked craft, carry passengers across the Kalamazoo River. I continued down the coast to South Haven, probably the most touristy town I passed through but fun nonetheless. The large beach near downtown was packed with skimpily-clad teens and college students. I strolled down the pier and took a dip in the water which, oddly, was comfortably in the 70s even though it had been freezing a couple dozen miles up the coast.


As Time Out suggested, I sampled the blueberry-flavored coffee at the Blueberry Store, 535 Phoenix St. and then hit the Thirsty Perch Grille, 272 Broadway St. As at the Tipsy Toad, I felt compelled to eat the eponymous animal (OK, they were frog, not toad legs) and ordered the perch tacos with portobello fries.

It was time to head over to the Indian Trail Bus Line station in a strip mall a mile west of downtown. Last summer when my girlfriend rode from Chicago to Michigan with me during my cross-country trip, she had no problem putting her unboxed bike on the Indian Trails bus home from Benton Harbor, just down the road from South Haven. I’d assumed I’d be able to do the same this time.

But the elderly, wise-cracking ticket agent, a former Chicago cop whose silver Rolls Royce was parked next to the station, insisted that I box my bike. Fortunately there was a small bike box in the office, left by another cyclist. I had to break down my bike pretty well to make it fit and since I didn’t have suitable tools with me for removing the pedals I had to cram it in there with the pedals on. It wasn’t pretty.

The bus ride itself was a trip. As the agent had warned me, the bus was overbooked and several of us had to sit or stand in the aisle. This had to be completely illegal and it made me feel like I was in Central America, minus the live chickens and goats on board. Fortunately, my iPod kept me entertained and I didn’t mind standing, so long as we didn’t crash.

After I assembled my bike at the Chicago bus terminal, found that even the fenders were miraculously intact after the rough treatment and pedaled a few miles back to my house, I deemed this multi-modal mission a smashing success. I wasn’t going to win any randonneuring prizes for it, but combining bicycling with train, boat and bus allowed me to cover a lot of ground in a few days with plenty of time leftover for some creative loafing.

Metra-sexuals

Public transit and bicycling can be routes to romance

By John Greenfield

[This piece also runs this week in New City magazine, www.newcity.com.]

It might seem like living car-free would make dating difficult. But as Tom Cruise and Rebecca De Mornay’s steamy El-train scene in“Risky Business” shows, alternative transportation can actually rev up your love life. Here’s testimony from Chicagoans who really “get around.”

Aurora Butterfly, a poet and co-organizer of the World Naked Bike Ride, says she’s had her share of make-out sessions on deserted Metra cars. But the CTA’s #66 Chicago Ave. bus was where she first flirted with relatively well-heeled suitors. “One was a voice-over artist who was deliciously beautiful, and the other was a successful animator and e-entrepreneur who looked like Batman,” she reports.

“Since it was the morning commute, they were too tired to lay it on thick,” she says. “It was more of a hunt-and-peck, secret glance style of courting, peeking over the marketing textbook.” Dating professionals was a nice change from her usual starving-artist types, says Butterfly. “They were thoughtful enough about the environment not to drive downtown even though they owned cars,” she says.

“Pete,” a musician, was entering the Damen Blue Line station soon after 9/11 when he saw an older lady standing on the stairs, wailing. After a young woman helped him get assistance for the senior, the two of them talked on the platform about how after the Trade Center attacks it seemed important to look out for other people.

On board they chatted and complimented each other’s eyeglasses as other passengers looked on. She gave him her business card as she got off the train, saying she’d love to go out some time. “I swear one guy in the train gave me a thumbs-up,” says “Pete.” Three weeks later he finally got the nerve up to call her, she invited him over to her apartment, and one thing led to another.

“Hannah” and “Dan” first met while building chopper bicycles at sessions organized by the Rat Patrol bike gang. She’s Jewish; he rolled with the Scallywags, punk-rock Christians whose members ride double-tall bikes and are sworn to celibacy before marriage.

The two mechanics got to know each other better on the Perimeter Ride, an all-day, all night, 100-mile bike tour around the city, ending with skinny-dipping in Lake Michigan. Needless to say, “Dan” gave up his vows. Nowadays the couple lives together at the Hub, a housing co-op owned by riders from Critical Mass. Vive le velo love!