Champagne, Illinois & Chicago, Illinois — Days 19 and 20
Odometer: 2874–3344 (470) miles
Listen to: “Via Chicago” — Wilco*
Everyone who grew up in a flyover state has a soft spot in their heart for Chicago. The city is a hybrid of New York skyscrapers, San Francisco neighborhoods, and midwestern sensibilities. It’s a challenge to the miles of flat, empty prairie around it, like a response to a dare.
I didn’t write a newsletter when I was in Champaign, mostly because I didn’t have time. Also, there’s not a whole lot of interesting things to say about driving through the same midwestern landscape of fields and rolling hills day after day. It’s beautiful, but sparse. Idyllic, but repetitive. It’s this part of the drive I was most apprehensive about when I left; I knew the west would be gorgeous and the east would be new and exciting, but I grew up in the Midwest, spent 23 years there. I wasn’t exactly expecting novelty. Thankfully, I have podcasts about Byzantine history, so all’s well.
Champaign is a fun little town, and it reminds me of Columbia. Full of cool bars and shops, that college-town vibe. I got some barbecue at Black Dog (which was good), then sampled a 8.1% wheat beer at The Blind Pig (which was not good, but it was ambitious, and I like that). The Airbnb host for the night was one of the nicest people I’ve met so far on this trip, and made me a custom sign for my Vespa parking.
The next morning, I grabbed a coffee and a danish in downtown Urbana, and hit the road towards Chicago. Like the previous day, it was the same set of country roads, the same unremarkable landscape of farms, windmills, and pastures, with the same brutal summertime heat. And then the fields gave way to suburbs and the suburbs gave way to the third largest city in America.
One thing I’ve noticed on this trip: the gradient between suburb and city is radically different in a thousand different ways from place to place. Oklahoma City rapidly threw me from downtown to cow pastures in under ten minutes. Kansas City pushed me through endless suburbs. Los Angeles is seaside town after seaside town, until you end up in the vast urban sprawl.
Chicago is like Kansas City in that way. I approached through nondescript American suburbs, until those suburbs turned into series of densely packed low-rise buildings, and the Sears Tower** peeked up over the horizon. It was a gorgeous approach, but the rush hour traffic and 102 degree heat detracted from the experience a tiny bit.
It is so hot. I had forgotten just how brutal midwestern summers could be.
After checking in to the Airbnb, I went over to the restaurant where my friend Evan works. Let me introduce Evan here: we met for the first time at a Mountain Goats show in 2007, I lived with him for two years in college, and I don’t think there’s anyone else in the entire world I’d rather see than him. We used to spend hours arguing about politics or ethics or technofuturism, usually only stopping until one of us (usually me) got tired and went to bed at three in the morning. Evan’s also responsible for at least half of my taste in music, and maybe 1/3 of my political beliefs. In short: he’s the best and I’m ecstatic I get to see him.
About 5 years ago, Evan let me borrow his copy of “The Master and Margarita”, his favorite book. Being the forgetful and spaced person I generally am, I forgot to return it. So, for the last three weeks, I’ve been carrying the book in my pack on the back of the Vespa, and last night, I finally got to return it to him.
I waited until his shift ended, and we went back to his apartment. I gave him the book, he flipped it open to his favorite passage, and read it aloud. We drank beers, listened to Godspeed You! Black Emperor, and caught up. By the time I headed home, it was 4 A.M. I climbed into bed in the Airbnb and looked out the window; the sky was getting light with that pale blue indicating the sun was just below the horizon.
It’s good to be in Chicago.
Friends, if you’re *also* in Chicago, I would love to see you! I’m here until Thursday morning, please let me know if you’re free and want to meet up!
Till then,
-Esten
* yes I know that’s two Wilco songs in a row, but they both fit the mood and there’s no way I’m not doing Via Chicago today
** I’m never calling it the Willis Tower. Ever. It’s just wrong.
