Doing time on the CTA is seldom an experience we look forward to. On the days when we're already running late, we'll wind up standing closer to a stranger than we sleep next to our partners. And the days we're not late are always the ones when we're marooned on a slow-moving car full of Sox or Cubs (or Bulls, Bears or Hawks) fans drunk on their victory — or drunker on their defeat — under the false assumption that you'd love to hear all about it.