Saturday Morning
Mission: Ipsento 606 in Wicker Park for coffee.
Got on the right train, thought I was wrong and got off. Ten minutes later I got back on the right train.
Train voice just said, “Your attention, please,” and then nothing.
Signs boast, “Building a new Chicago.” Why give up on the original now?
A mural on the side of a brick building opposite a vacant lot. It includes the words, “You deserve to be happy.” My typical response to this notion is a resounding, “no.” But the figure of a brown child on the shoulders of a brown man have me leaning toward…yes.
I order a coffee and an espresso. I also order a half-dollar sized donut. It costs one dollar.
Are all the women in Chicago tall and confident?
Wasabi is one of those words that can only be stylized a limited number of ways.
Hiking up Milwaukee from Wicker Park to Logan Square is kind of like parts of Manchester in the city, and a bit of Cherokee street, and south Grand, and elements of the Embarcadero in San Francisco. Wait, nevermind, it’s its own thing.
Something about fixed-gear bicycles per capita.
Maybe I should rent a Divvy. But it’s a little cold, fine for walking, potentially iffy for biking. Plus I don’t have a helmet. Although no one here seems to wear them anyway. But I did buy a transit day pass and I want to feel I got my money’s worth. But I’m meeting friends with a car later, so I probably won’t anyway. But I’m standing on the platform now, so train it is.
My plan is to ride the elevated train through downtown to see the sights, but I have to use the bathroom. One of Anthony Bourdain’s travel tips when searching for a restroom is to go to a bar. You will have to order a beer to be allowed to use it, but hey, now you have a beer. It’s ten-thirty in the morning. I’ll try that tactic with a donut.
The donut shop is too small to have a bathroom. I decide to be a bad citizen and use the one at McDonald’s without buying anything. But I’ll be back for that donut.
The orange juice is small and expensive, but I want it.
Is downtown the buildings or the people or the public art?
The city doesn’t look much different from the train versus the street.
another white suburbanite 