Last week, I
was at a crossroads; I had a week in the Midwest and I could have bounced
around from crazy family to crazy family with my own immediate crazy family or
lone-wolf it to Chicago and meet up with friends—I chose the latter.
I hopped on
a train with my guitar and a small bag of clothes and set off for the windy city. The
train conductor and I built a rapport quickly; maybe it was my long and/or
facial hair, but I gave him the sense that he could vent to me (in a heavy
Midwestern accent):
‘You know,
you try to help people and they just fuck you over.’
‘My boss is
gonna ream my fucking ass.’
‘Amtrak
doesn’t give a shit, and it worries me cuz its my fucking livelihood.’
‘yeah we got
food… shitty overpriced hot dogs.’
These were
just a few examples of the less-than-formal tone this uniformed man took with
me in regards to a hippy woman that he was allowing on the train without a
ticket, and the Amtrak system as we know it.
A few
conversations and a nap later and I was in the birthplace of the (commercial)
blues, The Crossroads of America, The Second City, and the setting for my
favorite Chris Farley skit (Daaa Bears).
My
(non-crazy) cousin works full time in Indiana, but was paid to move to Chicago
for reasons unclear to me, him, and probably his employer, too. As a product of
this, I had a free, nice apartment in Chicago to myself for the week. Thanks cuz.
The living
situation for the typical middle class Chicagoan seems to be a few rooms or a
floor of a retrofitted ‘greystone,’ or Sears-era brick house (catalogue homes
that were popular amongst Midwesterners striving for conformity in the first
half of the 20th century). The areas I was in had the feel of a neighborhood,
despite the likelihood that most people here were probably on year-by-year
leases with sublets coming and going. This neighborhoodly feeling could be attributed mostly to vigilant
landlords that oftentimes live in the same house that they rent out units from.
My one friend received a 300 word e-mail from her landlord over 3 cigarette
butts left on the stairs, for example (a staggering 100 WPCB average!).
In between
heavy drinking sessions with old and new friends alike, I did see some of the
many sites Chicago has to offer. As a plus, there was an upcoming airshow, so
The Blue Angels were practicing fly-bys of downtown Chicago the whole week. I
couldn’t help but imagine all out urban warfare in America; it was fun and
disturbing, but I couldn’t make amends with the unlikelihood of being invaded via
the great lakes so I stopped imagining.
On the
second night in town, I was an extra in a music video at a warehouse. It was cool, but
it was in a less-than-wholesome area of town, complete with people practicing
their crack fueled schizophrenic monologues on the street and cars with
aftermarket wheels that would slow down to a creep as they passed us walking to
and fro our destination. We did meet a pretty awesome Dave Chappellesque guy
who was avid about me going to Dave and Buster’s during my stay in Chicago—I
never made it.
Other
highlights included ‘The Bean’: a reflective bean shaped public work that produces
the most visually disorienting affect I have ever felt whilst not on
psychedelics or spinning around in flowery meadows.
The Art
Institute was fun; I like to laugh
with joy and irony at paintings and installments that I like. There was an exhibit on Roy
Lichtenstein, who is a hilarious and extraordinary artist; I would strongly suggest Googling him
if you have a few minutes (and since you’re reading this, I know you do!).
The Loop,
Chicago’s downtown, had a bit of a manufactured feel to it, but it is full of
stunning buildings. Apparently Chicago was a playing field for 20th
century architects to flex their egos by juxtaposing their ideal buildings next
to their rival’s competing, giant, functional phallic symbols of glass and
steel.
After lots
of long walks, rides on the CTA (the public transit system), and a variety of
activities I came to a few conclusions. First of all, they like to drink in
Chicago (I try to fight the urge to generalize, but I don’t think Chicagoans
will argue with this one, so why not stereotype for time’s sake?). Secondly,
there is way too much cheese and processed meat in the culinary traditions of
Chicago (I had to try all the different Chicago-styled junk foods, but I think
I had more digestive problems in a week in Chicago than I did in 6 months in
India #realtalk). And thirdly, I couldn’t see myself living in Chicago (If I am
going to put my body and soul through the stresses of American urban living,
I’m going to go all the way and do it big in LA, SF, or NYC… @Chicago: sorry
for the comparison, but you beg it by having lots of tall buildings and being
in America).
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