Last Saturday (August 9th), I flew to Chicago for
a work-related conference. The conference was very good, and I gained a lot of
insight that will help me with my job. But the true adventures started when the
conference let out. Just about every night afforded a little adventure.
Saturday
On the flight over, without notice I got switched from one
seat to another. This didn't bother me in the slightest. When I got on the
plane, I learned that it was a significant advantage. The row I was moved to
was the division between First Class and Coach. On a small CRJ (CanadaAir Regional Jet), that
difference is minimal, but where it divides there is a sort of “bulkhead”
seating, even though there’s not bulkhead. What that meant for me was that even
with my legs fully extended, I couldn't touch the seat in front of me. How’s
that for unusual?
I arrived on a flight with a number of colleagues from UTA
who were going to the same conference. All but one of us were booked in the
same hotel, so we said goodbye to Bob, whose hotel was several miles away, and
headed to downtown. We took the Chicago CTA “EL” train in, and the only bit of
strangeness was that a particular section was under construction, so we had a
little scheduled bus bridge section. That extended our trip time, but wasn't
really a big deal.
After checking into the hotel, the four of us met up for
dinner. We wandered around the downtown area a little bit, all starving,
looking for a place that had a wait of less than an hour. We never found one.
But eventually we settled for a high-brow place called Eataly that had mediocre
food and high prices. What can you do? After that I went back to the hotel and
settled in.
Sunday
Unfortunately, Sunday was a working day for the conference.
It was mostly a very long (12 hour) tour of the Chicago-area transit system. It
was very interesting, especially for a transit nerd like myself. Part of the tour included a segment which put
us over the border into Kenosha, Wisconsin, so I got an extra State out of the
deal! I’ve never been to Wisconsin, before, so that was fun. Also, along the
way, I got my first glimpses of Lake Michigan (my first Great Lake), and in
Wisconsin I stood right at the water’s edge, though I couldn't actually touch
the water.
One item of note, which will probably drive Ilene nuts, or
maybe just make her ashamed, is that because of work I couldn't attend church.
However, along the way, we had to find places to eat, and both for lunch and
for dinner, the only places which were convenient were bars. Chicago
restaurants weren't open early enough for lunch, and the small town in
Wisconsin only had a couple of options for dinner. So, on Sunday, I skipped
church and went to two bars.
Monday
By Monday night, I was ready to get out and do something.
The Navy Pier was only a few blocks from my hotel, so I thought I’d take a walk
down there. I actually left rather late, after 10:00, so by the time I got
there it was entirely closed. That’s not much of an interesting adventure. But
what happened along the way, and then after, was much more entertaining.
A couple of blocks into my walk, I came across a black man
in a green shirt pushing a bike. He was non-threatening, even in the middle of
the night, so when he tried to engage me in conversation, I didn't think much
of it. He asked me what I was doing, and I responded that I was out for a walk.
He pushed the conversation, stating that I was probably looking for bars.
Rather than engage with him, I tried to just let him think that.
Well, that wasn’t good enough. Phil insisted, leading me by
the arm, on showing me where the good bars were. I thought I’d let him do that
and let it go. Along the way he serenaded me with a song or two from Hall &
Oats, and he started to give me the lowdown on (in less vulgar terminology than
he used) where the women were the most promiscuous. With that I decided to be
firm and end the tour. I thanked him and tried to leave, but he blocked me,
telling me how he was homeless and needed help and hustling me with how he had
provided me a service. I gave him a couple of bucks, and walked away.
After I got away from him, I made my way down to the pier,
which was closed; the pier itself doesn't close, per se, but everything on it was,
and all the lights were off, making it not particularly inviting. So I turned
around and went back to Michigan Avenue, where my hotel was. But, when I got
there, I wasn't tired, and I didn't want to sit bored in my room. So I turned
and headed up Michigan to see what else was going on.
I walked a long way along Michigan. As I approached one
particular intersection, an older woman started staring at me. She looked like
she was in need of help, so I decided to be a boy scout for the second time,
that night. I asked her if she needed help, and she responded that she needed
help crossing the street. I guess it really was a boy scout-ly, and I helped
her across the street, and then across another, where I left her as she needed
no more assistance.
After a while, I decided to leave Michigan, where I had
taken photos of several very interesting places, and see what else I could see.
I ended up on Rush street, which is apparently the bar scene (other than the
one that Phil had shown me earlier). That was less than enthralling to me, so I
took a turn onto another street.
And, that’s where things went south. Actually, both
literally and figuratively. A block later, I crossed the street. A couple guys
in a car let me cross that street. As soon as I had, they turned and followed
me. They approached me from behind and asked me what I was up. I said nothing and
tried to not engage with them (having learned my lesson), but that was not to
be. They followed me for the next couple of minutes, their bumper just a few
feet behind me on the street (I was on the sidewalk). I looked around, and in
the middle of the block, had no real escape route.
I suspect that they were looking to see if I was attempting
to purchase drugs, though I don’t know that for sure. Perhaps they were
guarding a territory that I had mistakenly entered. Maybe I was just guilty of
being white in the wrong neighborhood. Whatever it was, I was very unnerved.
I continued walking, and after a couple of minutes, they
pulled ahead of me and stopped. A vision of them exiting the car and knifing me
when I walked by flashed through my mind, so I promptly turned around and
headed back the way I had come. Call it paranoia or intuition or inspiration,
whichever it was, it felt like the right response. I made a quick turn and then
another, watching to see if they followed. They didn’t, or else I lost them,
I’m not sure which, but the latter makes me seem more spy-like, so I’m going
with that.
I lost them. And, in the process, I got lost myself. The
turns threw me off. Also, I found out later, Rush Street was not North-South or
East-West, but was diagonal, which probably contributed to my confusion.
I wandered for a while, trying to navigate without pulling
out my phone. I had things more or less figured out, and I was heading the
correct direction to get back home without any satellitular navigational support,
but it seemed like I was walking too far, and I suspected I was heading west
rather than east, so I did consult my onboard ambulatory navigation system (aka
my phone). It turns out I had just gotten further west than I realized (note
the diagonal street reference above), and I was just a couple of blocks away
from where I wanted to be.
(Author’s note: I know there’s no such word as “satellitular”
which I think would be the appropriate word to mean “of or relating to satellites.”
The real word for that definition is “satellite,” but the fact that the word
satellite is both the noun and the adjective is verbally inelegant to me, so I
invented my own.)
I wasn’t nervous at all about being lost in this unknown
city. Being lost and finding my way, to me, is part of the fun; that is, of
course, assuming that I’m not pressed for time, and that I have a nice gps
system to fall back on, should the need arise.
When I returned to Michigan Avenue, where I again felt
entirely secure due in large part to the number of people and ubiquity of
street lighting, I was still several blocks from my hotel, so I headed back
southwards, again. It was during these last blocks that it occurred to me that
wandering around in unknown neighborhood, in the middle of the night, in the
murder capital of North America, might not be the best idea I ever had.
But it was an adventure!
Tuesday
On Tuesday night I decided that I needed to get out, again,
and so this time I headed down to the river walk along the Chicago River. It
was gorgeous. There, you get the best of both worlds: the natural beauty
associated with the river and green space on the south side of the river, and
the amazing and beautiful architecture of some of Chicago’s older buildings
mixed in with newer skyscrapers.
Walking along the river eventually brought me near to Lake
Michigan, and I ended up on a marina a couple of blocks south of the Navy Pier.
So, I took a few photos of the water, the boats, and the skyline, then I headed
north to the pier. I hadn't realized how long that pier actually is, and it
took me most of an hour to walk to its end and back.
The walk was fun, though I didn't stop at any of the clubs,
bars, amusement facilities, etc. set there for entertainment purposes. I walked
back on the opposite side of the pier, which was much less interesting, and,
unfortunately, was direly overpopulated with spiders. It felt as though it were
inhabited by billions of eight-legged freaks, and I was constantly trying to
brush off spider silk.
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After my adventure from Monday, I decided that my trip
should probably end at 10:00, so when I got back from the pier, I called it a
night.
Wednesday
The conference officially ended on Wednesday afternoon, with
a tour of the El Loop in downtown concluding around 3:00. On the tour of the El
(Chicago’s famous Elevated Train), I of course stopped and took some photos of
the station and track at Randolph and Wabash, which is the famous station from While
You Were Sleeping. How could I not?
Along the tour I also spotted a library, which was located,
conveniently enough, at the station named Harold Washington Library. How could
I not go there?
So I did. I took the El down to the station, got off and
went into the library. It was amazing. I've never seen any library that even
compared. I’m including some photos of it just to illustrate how beautiful it
was.
While I was at the library I sat down and thought to myself “I’m in Chicago: what are the things that I do not want to miss seeing while I’m here?” That was an exceptionally good question to ask myself, because it didn't take long to realize that I would kick myself forever if I didn't go see the site of the World’s Fair Columbian Exposition of 1893.
Now, I know, that may not seem terribly exciting to anyone
else. What you have to keep in mind with a nerd like me is that that exposition
was important for two reasons. First, as a geographer, it was where Daniel
Burnham introduced the concepts associated with the White City (and built the
exposition thereof), which became the model for 20th Century North
American city form. A lot of the good and bad that comes with modern cities can
be attributed to White City. Second, as a tech geek, that world’s fair was a
significant moment in the development of all things electric, with Edison,
Westinghouse, and Tesla contributing greatly to a vision of a technologically advanced
America.
I pulled out my phone and looked it up. White City was built
on the spot which is, today, Jackson Park, a 500 acre park, which was only a
few miles south of my location in the library. I should note here that my phone
was nearly dead at this point; fortunately, very fortunately indeed, I had
brought along 3 external batteries into which I could plug my phone. And I did.
I walked a couple of blocks from the library to the Metra
train station. The Metra train was the one I needed to get me down to Jackson
Park. Metra trains were also paid for, for the week, by the conference, so
travelling to White City was going to be free. (I love free!) The train was
pulling into the station as I walked onto the platform, so I quickly boarded.
I can’t stress this enough. I went to the Metra Station. It
said Metra right on it. As I walked through the terminal an announcement over
the PA proclaimed the arrival of a Metra Train. I had a pass for Metra trains.
But the train I got on was an Indiana Line train, which was
not what I wanted at all. And I didn't realize it.
A few miles later, just as before we passed the station I
wanted to get off at, the conductor asked for my ticket. I showed him my pass.
He promptly informed me that I was not on a Metra train, and, instructed me
that I would have to exit the train at the next station.
(Author’s note: I have now, to borrow a phrase from the British,
been ‘put off the train.’ I never would have jumped fair intentionally, and I
certainly wasn't looking to delay my journey to the White City site. That said,
I would not trade my expulsion from the train for anything. It was, well,
lovely.)
I was not put off the train immediately, but at the next
station, which makes perfect sense. Only, unlike the Metra trains, which have
stops every mile or so, the Indiana line has infrequent stops. By the time I
actually exited at Hegewish Station, I was only 1.4 miles, travelling along the
road, not straight-line, from Indiana the State. I was very tempted to go ahead
and walk over to Indiana, thereby claiming a third State to which I had never
before visited, on this trip. However, my experience had rattled me enough, and
delayed my visit to my much-anticipated destination, that I decided to just
wait for the next Metra Train north-ish. I wish I had taken the 3-mile round trip
walk and crossed the State line, and I knew that I would regret not doing so,
but here I am, still never having visited Indiana.
I was relieved, when planting my foot on the platform, to
see that the station had Metra labels, indicating that Metra trains serviced
the station. I was far enough south that I was a bit worried they wouldn't go
that far.
It turns out my worries were founded and the labels were
wrong. The only trains going back north to Chicago were South Shore line
trains. So, when the train came, I jumped on board, but I had to pay for a
ticket. Fortunately, that line did have a stop right at the park where I wanted
to go, so I was at my destination a few minutes later, albeit an hour or so
later than I had originally intended.
Jackson Park was beautiful, and I got to see the remnants of
the buildings erected for the World’s Fair. It was a very fulfilling geeky
experience, but to be honest, wasn't much of an adventure to tell. I walked all
through the park, and then across it to the east side, which is right on Lake
Michigan. In all my travelling around to this point, though I had been right
next to the lake several times, both on
the Navy Pier and in Kenosha, I had never been able to touch the water. At
Jackson Park, there was a public beach, staffed with life guards, even. I
walked out onto the sand and put my hands and feet into the water.
After my little adventure there, I walked back towards my Metra station, where I could catch an actual Metra Train. Because my battery had been low, I hadn't been able to take pictures in Jackson Park, but I had been charging for a while, and I had just enough power to take a few, starting at the lake and on my way back to White City.
I checked my Google maps to find my station, and headed
towards the station. When I got there, the station was on a viaduct over my
head, which I hadn't realized. So instead of entering the tunnel and then
climbing the stairs to the station, I mistakenly went all the way through the tunnel.
How fortuitous! Upon exiting the tunnel I discovered I was
standing at the entry to the University of Chicago! This was another of the
places I had wanted to visit while in Chicago, but thought I wouldn't have time
for with my long detour in getting to White City. I had not realized that it
was just a couple of blocks from Jackson Park, but here I was!
I took an hour or so and took a self-guided tour of the
University. In all actuality, most of it was in the neighborhood around the
University, and not on the campus at all, but that was fine. Once again, you
may think this is a rather nerdy destination; and I agree. The University of
Chicago is one of the most important spots for those of us in the field of
geography; so to me, this was a great experience. I thought, as I wandered
around, that were I to do it again, or were I to pursue a PhD, I would do so
at the U of C. It was a beautiful campus, and I've lived in worse places!
At this point, my feet were blistered and tender, and I
decided to head back. Also, my phone battery had been too low while I was at
the Harold Washington Library to take photos of the best part of the building,
the mezzanine and glass roof on the top floor. So with a now semi-charged battery,
I headed back to the library and from there back my hotel. Incidentally, while
using the restroom at the library, I found a couple of other details that
necessitated a quick snapshot.
Thursday
Thursday I flew back from Chicago to Salt Lake. The flight
was in the early afternoon, and with packing, checking out, and travelling to
the airport, afforded me no time for another adventure. It is nice to be home,
though.
