Sometimes it’s ok to give up

Today’s post brought to you by: A snowflake. NO. I. AM. NOT. REFERRING. TO. ME.

Grateful for: ability to fit into $1.99 kids’ gloves from CVS

Trying hard to accept: the power of fate

Joy of joys. Stepped out of apartment this morning into zillions of snowflakes gently falling around me.

Actually reminded me of when you give the vacuum cleaner bag a good shake after you empty it. Yes, I know there are bag-less vacuum cleaners. No, I do not have one. They cost $30 more. Duh.

‘High’ of minus 4 today. But it’s all relative because next-stop-Minneapolis is going to reach the lofty heights of minus 15. I had to ask Google to tell me that 3 times before it sunk in.

Being the shallow and cheap thing that I am (Do. Not. Agree), at least wearing a hat all day means I don’t need to use any hair product.

Am now defrosting among all the other iPads at Metropolis Cafe.

Just told the server he’s the friendliest, happiest person I’ve ever met working in a cafe.

“Aw, shucks”, he grinned ear-to-ear, “That’s because ay-ame from Texas!”

Am guessing the other server hails from Noo York. I got 6 words and a snarl out of her. Just to piss her off I gave her 39c in nickels and pennies, all slowly counted out.

But in her defence she’s got her eye on the prize. And if there’s one thing I admire, it’s ambition.

Clearly she’s after one thing. And one thing only. A boyfriend.

The 30-something guy behind me got 7 minutes of loud gushy conversation, peppered with fake laughter. Probably got her phone number too, scrawled onto his receipt.

Cool t-shirt huh? Got it in the Wicker Park thrift store for $1.91. Got you a t-shirt too, Peter. Paid $2.92 for yours. Never say I don’t love you.

One of these statements is false:

• I read the NY Times cover to cover
• I did 97% of the crossword
• There’s a website called NY Times Crossword Answers
• I didn’t use it

Headline news:

• Law change on its way so police can no longer kill two birds with one stone in the ER. After interviewing sexual assault victims they can arrest them for things like unpaid fines. Arrest as in slap handcuffs on and haul them down to the station.
• Police found drugs and guns in rapper Juice Wrld’s airport luggage. I want to be cool like him so am now known as Drip Coffee Wrtr.

White Island eruption got 2 paragraphs on page 16.

Yesterday didn’t go as planned. The plan, Stan, was to tour a Frank Lloyd Wright house. Only snag: it was in South Chicago.

Spent ages on CTA website working out safest, fastest and cheapest way to get there.

Fastest option still took forever. Past endless tower block apartments, boarded up windows, rubbish-strewn lots and fast food chains.

Got off train and huddled in a corner out of the rain, next to 6-lane highway, to wait for the bus. Which took A.G.E.S to arrive.

Too scared to pull my phone out lest it got snatched out of my hand, or worse.

With 15 minutes till house tour started, the bus finally rolled up. Jumped on, went a few blocks, discreetly checked Google maps and guess what? On the wrong bus.

Three words that rarely escape my fingers: I gave up.

Worked out by the time I waited, got the right bus, then walked 10 minutes I’d only get the last 15 minutes of the tour.

So waited again in the rain while avoiding eye contact with group of guys trying to talk to me. Got back on urine-stenched train for the long ride home.

That’s it. No more trains, except to Amtrak.

Not only does it take longer to get anywhere on the train than it’d take me to spring clean my house with a toothbrush, it’s expensive. From now on am walking everywhere.

As I was waiting, discreetly watching people come and go and looking around, I thought how different peoples’ Chicagos are.

The people in the poorer areas probably never go down gold-plated Michigan Avenue. (Probably never want to, to be fair).

They probably rarely leave their neighbourhoods.

Their lives must be long hours spent waiting for and riding public transport, low-paid jobs, cold dangerous housing, lack of mobility and worst of all, lack of prospects.

It all boils down to the power of fate. Where you’re born, who you’re born to and your ability to change your situation. For the zillionth time I thanked my incredible good fortune to have been born into middle class comfort and security.

Three hours of riding trains and buses later I got home, having achieved very little except a tour of south Chicago.

Wanted to find out more about life there so watched ‘Friday Night in Chicago’s Most Dangerous Neighbourhoods’.

Blow me down (not with a bullet thankfully) that the streets I’d just been on are number 7 on the list.

The neighbourhoods I rode through on Sunday on my way to ill-fated Oak Park are numbers 4 and 6 on the list.

Energy restored I went for long walk round my neighbourhood just as school was getting out.

Past big historic homes with lit Christmas trees in the bay windows, cosy lighting and such a warm inviting look about them that I wanted to be one of the school kids going home to mom pulling freshly-baked cookies out of the oven and a roaring open fire.

In reality though it’s probably the nanny grabbing Wholefoods pastries out of the microwave and a central heating thermostat on the wall. While mom and dad work 70 hours a week, 51 weeks a year to stop the bank foreclosing.

Stumbled across an antique market so large you could’ve held 6 Moonie weddings and 3 bar mitzvahs in it and still had room for a Walmart.

Turn your neck 180 degrees. You can do it. Yes you can!

Put your money away Peter. I bought your first bike at the antique market. Never say I don’t love you.

And then to the library.

Einstein working on Theory of Relativity 2.0 in Edgewater branch of Chicago Public Library. I pretended to be reading ‘Martha Stewart Living’ while zooming in. Move over Agent 99.

This is how happy I am here. Everything about this neighbourhood is me. The architecture is just beautiful. There’s a real sense of community too. And even though there’s money here, there’s an understated style about the place. Well, except in Andersonville of course.

Every house has an entrance like this. Oak panelling, art nouveau lights, marble stairs. You can’t really get a sense of it by a photo. I just stop and gawp and imagine who’s lived there over the years.

Right, time to go home, make some kale chips for the long train trip tomorrow and work out where I can spend the day walking. The sun is shining. I’m in my beloved Chicago. I’m one happy and very grateful camper.