In the Box

At some point during the first week of first grade, the teacher hauled a huge cardboard box out of a supply closet—a box that likely previously housed a refrigerator or a chest of drawers. It had a small square window cut into one side.

“This—” our teacher proclaimed solemnly, “is the punishment for those who can’t stop pestering their neighbors.” I could visualize the box fitting snuggly over my desk, blocking me from the other students, narrowing my line of sight to the teacher and the blackboard.

And I immediately thought to myself, How will I ever do something naughty enough to get to be in the box?

I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more. The dark. The privacy. Not to be pestered by my classmates’ endless chatter.

This is the thrill I get from riding the Brown Line around the Chicago Loop.

It empties, and you can gaze out at the city in peace.

More photos on the Chicago page.

Comments are closed.