Chicago is loud. If you’ve ever stood under the steel belly of the Wells Street bridge while a Brown Line train screeches overhead, you know exactly what I mean. It’s a bone-rattling, teeth-chattering kind of noise that most people would call a nuisance. But for a certain subset of the population—those who might be crazy about chicago trains nyt readers often see profiled in the travel or crossword sections—that sound is a symphony. It’s the heartbeat of the Windy City.
The "L" isn't just a transit system. Honestly, it’s a living museum. While New York buries its steel under layers of Manhattan schist, Chicago wears its tracks like a crown. Most of it is elevated. You’re literally flying through the second stories of office buildings and peering into the living rooms of Lakeview condos. It’s intimate. It’s gritty. It's totally unique to the American Midwest.
When the New York Times dives into the obsession people have with the CTA (Chicago Transit Authority), they aren't just talking about getting from point A to point B. They're talking about the "Loop," the specific architecture of the 1890s, and the way the city was built around these iron veins. If you haven't sat by a window on the Pink Line as it snakes toward the skyline, you haven't actually seen Chicago.
The Steel Loop That Defined a City
Why do people obsess over these tracks? History. Pure, unadulterated history.
The Loop is the center of everything. It’s a 1.79-mile rectangle of elevated track that gives the downtown district its name. Usually, when people say "The Loop," they mean the neighborhood, but the name comes directly from the trains. Charles Tyson Yerkes, a man who was basically a 19th-century supervillain with a knack for infrastructure, was the driving force behind consolidating these lines. He knew that if you controlled the tracks, you controlled the city's pulse.
There’s something hypnotic about the way the tracks intersect at Tower 18. It was once the busiest railroad junction in the world. Even now, watching three different colored lines—the Orange, the Brown, and the Pink—converge and diverge without hitting each other feels like a miracle of engineering. Or maybe just a lot of luck and very skilled signaling.
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A Palette of Colors
The CTA doesn't use numbers like New York or names like London. It uses colors.
- The Red Line: The workhorse. It runs 24/7, slicing through the city from the Far South Side all the way up to Rogers Park. It’s where you see the real Chicago.
- The Brown Line: This is the scenic route. It’s the one the "crazy about Chicago trains" crowd loves most. It’s mostly elevated and offers incredible views of the River North architecture.
- The Blue Line: Your ticket to O'Hare. It’s the one everyone hates when they have a suitcase but loves because it only costs a few bucks to get to the airport.
What Most People Get Wrong About the "L"
People think it’s just a dirty subway. They’re wrong.
Actually, the "L" is one of the few places in America where the class divide briefly vanishes. You’ve got a CEO in a $3,000 suit sitting next to a student from DePaul and a guy selling loose cigarettes. It’s the great equalizer. In a city as segregated as Chicago can be, the train is the one place everyone shares the same air.
There’s also this myth that the trains are dangerous or falling apart. Look, they’re old. Some of the stations, like Quincy, look exactly like they did in 1897, complete with pressed tin ceilings and oak ticket booths. But that’s the charm. It’s not "falling apart"; it’s patina. The CTA has poured billions into the Red and Purple Modernization Project because they know this system is the only thing keeping the city from a permanent traffic jam.
The Transit Enthusiast Subculture
Go to a CTA "Heritage Fleet" event and you’ll see what true obsession looks like. These are the folks who can tell the difference between a 2600-series railcar and a 5000-series just by the sound of the door chime. They collect old tokens. They have maps from 1955 framed in their hallways.
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The New York Times loves these stories because they represent a specific kind of urban romanticism. In an era of Teslas and Uber, there’s something deeply human about a massive, electric-powered machine that hasn't changed its fundamental route in over a century. It’s predictable in an unpredictable world.
The Best Spots for Train Watching
If you want to understand the hype, you have to go to the right places. Don't just stand on a platform.
- The Wells Street Bridge: Stand on the pedestrian walkway when a train passes above. The bridge shakes. The noise is deafening. It’s visceral.
- The Library-State/Van Buren Station: The architecture of the Harold Washington Library provides a massive, gothic backdrop for the screeching metal of the Loop.
- The Wilson Stop: Recently renovated, it’s a stunning example of how you can mix modern glass and steel with the grit of the old Red Line tracks.
Honestly, the best way to experience it is to buy a Ventra card, load it with ten bucks, and just get lost. Take the Brown Line all the way to Kimball. Watch the city turn from skyscrapers into bungalows and backyards. You'll see laundry hanging on lines and kids playing basketball, all from a bird's-eye view.
Why the NYT Keeps Coming Back to This
The New York Times keeps profiling Chicago's transit because it's the antithesis of the New York Subway. The NYC subway is a basement; the Chicago "L" is a balcony. It offers a perspective on urban life that you just can't get anywhere else.
It’s about the "El" (though locals usually spell it "L"). It’s about the way the light hits the steel during "Golden Hour" in the Loop. It’s about the smell of ozone and the rhythmic thump-thump of the wheels over the rail gaps.
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If you're reading about people who are crazy about these trains, you're reading about people who love the city's flaws as much as its beauty. They love the delays caused by "track fires" (which are usually just debris) and the way the train slows down to a crawl when it rounds the tight corners of the Loop. It’s a slow-motion tour of the American dream, or at least the 20th-century version of it.
Essential Chicago Train Etiquette
If you're going to join the ranks of the enthusiasts, don't be a tourist.
- Move to the center of the car. Don't block the doors.
- Take your backpack off. Hold it at your feet so you don't smack a commuter in the face.
- Don't eat on the train. It's gross.
- Keep your headphones in. Nobody wants to hear your TikTok feed.
Moving Forward: How to Experience the "L" Like an Expert
Stop looking at your phone. That’s the first step. If you're underground on the Red or Blue lines, fine, check your emails. But the second you emerge into the daylight, put the screen away.
Look at the junctions. Notice how the tracks are supported by those massive, riveted steel beams. Think about the workers who hammered those in during the 1890s. Look for the "phantom" stations—the spots where the train doesn't stop anymore, but you can still see the old wooden platforms rotting away.
Actionable Steps for the Aspiring Railfan:
- Download the Transit App: The CTA’s own trackers are... let's say "optimistic." Third-party apps often give you a more realistic "ghost train" warning.
- Visit the Illinois Railway Museum: It’s a bit of a trek out to Union, IL, but they have the old CTA cars you can actually ride.
- Ride the "L" at night: The city looks different when it's lit up. The Orange Line trip back from Midway gives you a view of the skyline that looks like a movie set.
- Follow the CTA Heritage Fleet: They occasionally run "vintage" trains from the 1920s or 1950s. Riding a car with wicker seats and overhead fans is a time-travel experience you won't forget.
Chicago is a city built on transit. To love the trains is to love the city itself. It’s loud, it’s crowded, and it’s occasionally a little bit late—but it’s also the most beautiful way to see the world.
The next time you're in the city, don't call an Uber. Get on the "L." Look out the window. Be a little crazy about it. You’ll see exactly what the New York Times was talking about. It’s not just a ride; it’s the whole point of being here.