Grand Avenue, Red Line
Many of us find ourselves on El platforms at early hours of the morning when we still may be far from completely awake. You’re standing in the station at Grand and State, sleepily gazing south down the tunnel toward the Loop. Before you see the northbound Red Line train—before you even hear it, beyond the near-constant duodenal rumble that echoes unpredictably through the entire subway system-you can, if you’re staring fixedly enough, discern its approach in the sliver of light that appears on the eastmost rail, then fattens, brightening, until it spills over to ignite the other rail (even as that rumble grows not-so-distant) and begins shooting toward the still-not-entirely conscious you, until first the headlight (which has been pushing that brilliant reflection ahead of it) and then the train itself swing into full view, wheels sparking and grinding. And the rumble deepens and ramifies into subordinate complexities of loudness (clacks, rattles, screeches, et al.) before it bursts into the hard, echoing shell of the station space (heralded by that little puff of just-warmer displaced air) and for a few seconds the sound turns into something entirely different, a part-industrial, part-prehistoric, tympanum-thrashing, eustachian-tube scouring shriek, and if there are any last vestiges of sleep still left in your paltry little head they are blown clean out.
Grand and State (888)YOURCTA
Audience choice:
Belmont
Belmont and Sheffield
Red, Brown, Purple lines
Best of Chicago 2002
