Chicago has a way of tricking me into thinking I could live in the midwest.
The lake really is quite huge. You can’t see to the other side of it and it slaps against the edge and even has whitecaps in the wind.
The L is just as bizarre as the T. Actually, that’s probably not true. At least it’s cooler because it’s above-ground.
The Chicago Institute of Art is one my favorite museums.
There’s good coffee everywhere.
And as of right now, I have two good friends living out there, and the numbers seem to be growing.
I finished Andre Dubus III’s memoir Townie on the plane. I closed the book and cried (just a little, no one noticed, but there were tears nonetheless), and even though I tried to put words to it (like kinship and desire and maybe someday) there was no way to separate the reasons that book hit me.
I landed in Chicago to the arms of the friend I met teaching English last summer. Her hair was just as wild in March as July and the weather was no better than Boston.
We wandered the Art Institute (and this time I didn’t take a nap in the park).
The most beautiful sculpture that my blurry pictures don’t do justice to. My first thought was Adam and Eve, before and after the Fall. I wasn’t far off, together and not together, to know each other but still not fully know another person.
I met a good friend from high school, and she took me to Wilde Bar and Restaurant. That’s right, Oscar Wilde, complete with quotes. I saw her condo and she showed me the bus system and I navigated it just fine, thank you very much.
We got dressed up to pumpin’ tunes. I dumbly forgot my contacts, so I took on the challenge to look sophisticated and Friday-night-out-worthy wearing glasses.
I greeted the boys, our dates, our city-chaperones, with the charming:
“Can I help you find your reference materials?”
(They said no and took us out on the town.)
Heard of dueling pianos? Check out Howl at the Moon and get ready for some loud singing and great piano.
Take a taxi to Navy Pier and attempt to get on the ferris wheel. Accidentally crash a wedding reception while your date steals the show, find the ferris wheel closed, then awkwardly walk back through that same wedding reception.
Have two taxis stolen right out from under you.
Sit at the Drake with new friends and newer friends, drink a classy cocktail, and wish you could sing along with the Frank Sinatra crooner and baby grand.
Take a walk in the sunshine on your last day and wish that everyone you love lived in the same place.
And be grateful for airplanes.
