A “C”-nic walk Around Downtown Chicago
Get it? Because my walking path is shaped like the letter “C”?
2:17 p.m. I walk up the steps of the ‘L’ stop at Lake Street. As I emerge from underground, the hot sun hits me. An Asian woman and her son walk past me. The boy almost runs into me as he takes in his surroundings, his head swiveling like an owl’s. Sweat beads on my forehead.
2:19 p.m. I have crossed the street to keep going up State Street. I see two young men kiss and embrace before parting ways. One of them is wearing doctor’s scrubs while the other one is clad in a sport coat and skinny jeans. An ambulance screams and turns the corner, making everyone halt.
2:22 p.m. I walk over Wacker Drive. A man steps on a plastic cup, making it scratch against the pavement. I can smell the fishy stench of the river as I walk over the bridge. Buses and cars rattle the whole bridge, making it a mini earthquake.
2:29 p.m. I meander across the Wabash Avenue Bridge. Now the black and gold State Street sign (from the bridge I just walked over) looks at me like I am a traitor. A man with a brown dog and leg brace limps by— I’m guessing he had ACL surgery. The metal brace wrinkles his blue jeans. A boat called ‘Chicago’s Little Lady’ passes, full of tourists craning their necks upwards. An old man as tan as leather points to the buildings around them as he blabs into a microphone. Pigeons fly above me, landing on the post at the end of the bridge.
2:32 p.m. I turn right off of the bridge and walk down some steps to a Chicago Veterans Memorial. Leaves scatter the steps, as well as various plastic bags. I step on one and it crinkles. The memorial fountains gurgle as various people sit on the risers. It is strange because I usually associate memorials with a somber mood, but everyone here is relaxed. Two men sit a few feet from each other, both wearing blue shirts. It is 84.9 db.
2:40 p.m. In between the Dearborn and State Street Bridges, I pass ginormous boats parked in the river next to a water-front restaurant. There are both young and old couples enjoying wine as a man parks his yacht. A man sitting gives me a weird look and I give him one back. Two kayakers in the river move swiftly in unison as they paddle in their two-person lime green kayak. They pause their operation to stare up at the buildings around them. They continue, their paddles gently slapping the water.
2:46 p.m. The atmosphere of this sitting area is a big sigh of relief. Everyone is on their phones, laying down, reading, or listening to music. It seems like people go here when they need a break from work, as most people are dressed in a button down shirt and slacks. Tourists walk along the path in front of the risers, taking out their phones to take photos of the river. It is 89.7 db here. A pigeon jumps up each stair of the riser. I am proud of the little fellow. A woman in a light blue sweater sits with her knees awkwardly tilted inwards. She looks down at her phone. She has tortoise shell glasses pushing back her dirty blond hair. The woman stands up and stretches before stepping down the risers and walking down the path.
2:51 p.m. The black and gold sign on the bridge in front of me reads Wells Street. A man with white hair in a blue dress shirt touches a wall with water flowing down it. It splashes, so he shakes his hand dry.
2:56 p.m. Gulls cry above me as I pass under the Wells Street Bridge. Massive, glass buildings tower in front of me. The water is forever moving, reflecting light off the skyscrapers. There are floating troughs of greenery, with little balconies of sorts jutting out in between them. The troughs of greenery bob up and down. A yellow ‘Chicago Water Taxi’ floats by, causing rippling waves. The plant boxes bump into each other, making clinking noises as the metal beds collide. The smell of the plants hits me and brings a sense of calm. It is nature in the middle of a cluster of man-made structures. The air is humid as another ‘L’ train passes overhead. It is 97.4 db. I click on my Field Trip app and learn that the Merchandise Mart building sits across from me. When it was built it was the largest building in the world, with 4.1 million square feet and its own ZIP code. It is strange to think that this emperor of a building sits across from a quaint little swamp of sorts.
3:06 p.m. I come up some concrete stairs from where I was walking along the river, and learn that the path is called the ‘Chicago Riverwalk’. I can’t believe I didn’t figure that one out. I walk over Franklin Street and pass a stocky girl sporting heavy eyeliner, a red plaid mini skirt, and white thigh-high hosiery. Her dark makeup makes her eyes look sunken into her head.
3:09 p.m. I spot a random fawn statue. A man paces along the sidewalk near the ginormous deer. He talks into wireless earbuds and carries a gray cinched bag. A guy whizzes behind me on electric scooter, nearly clipping my ankles in the process.
3:11 p.m. A dirty newspaper sails through the air and hits my leg. I kick it away. My app tells me it is 88.0 db.
3:16 p.m. I cross over Lake Street on to Wacker Drive. A car honks at both me and a lady who is wrapped a giant, green fuzzy sweater. We look at each other and laugh. “Impatient!” she says. I agree with her before parting ways. I pass a restaurant called Pearl Brasserie and a wave of air conditioning hits me from the open window. They have a bar that is literally along the sidewalk, with pedestrians dodging the wooden stools. It is the strangest place to eat that I have ever seen.
3:24 p.m. A balding businessman slurps the overflowing soda gathered on the lid of his McDonald’s cup. We make eye contact.
3:27 p.m. The Civic Opera House is to my right. I open the Field Trip app to discover that it was constructed during the eve of the Great Depression. There are two carvings mirrored on each side of the building’s sign. It confuses me as they look like men, but they have breasts. They each have the head of a screaming man underneath their elbow. Nice and depressing, just like the era they were built in. There are grey columns supporting the building. I’m sure it’s very ornate inside (considering it is an opera house), but it looks depressing from the outside with no lights shining through the windows. I take one more look at the screaming heads before walking away.
3:35 p.m. The stretch of Wacker Drive between Monroe Street and Adams Street is extremely cold and corporate. Everyone here wears a suit and carries a briefcase or coffee. All the buildings have bright lights that put you on the spot, just like the CEO passing you would do if you worked for him. All the buildings around me block out the sun, making it look and feel dark. There are hardly any women besides myself. I walk across Adams Street and come face to face with eight countries’ flags flying and a giant metal globe sculpture. Three businessmen disregard me as they wait at the crosswalk.
3:40 p.m. I walk only a few steps to realize that the flags are in front of Willis Tower. I look up. The sun is shining against the building and I can see how dirty the windows are. The tower is brown and dusty and stretches beyond my view. The black light post next to me has very ornate carvings.
3:44 p.m. The wind rushes at me and for a second I can hear nothing else. I am facing Jackson Boulevard. I spy a woman wearing purple shorts carrying a grey and white kitten on a leash. It looks scared.
3:49 p.m. A construction worker wearing an orange helmet and a yellow vest moves construction materials that were previously in the middle of the sidewalk. His face is turning red.
3:55 p.m. The sun hits me, and yet again my forehead perspires. There is only me and two other men on this stretch of sidewalk on Van Buren Street. The first man passes me and gives me a strange look. Over-sized headphones cover his bald head. The other man is behind me and has little hair. He is old, and looks sunburned. A Hispanic man in a light blue shirt zips past on a bicycle and smiles. I smile back. As I reach the end of this sidewalk, I see a man clad in black and white pointing his camera up at the glass building in front of us. It is 74 db here.
4:00 p.m. There are many people sitting in the green chairs littered in the park to my right. One Asian man with glasses looks like he is nearly asleep. Suddenly he wakes up and stares at his phone.
4:01 p.m. A fire truck plows by and suddenly I am back at the Skydeck sign by Willis Tower. I realize I have made a square. I walk down the street again, this time on the right side instead of the left.
4:06 p.m. There is a ton of foot traffic here. A motorcycle obnoxiously roars by. It almost drowns out the man busking on the corner. He is wearing a black fedora with a red flower tucked into the band and has a few tattoos covering his upper arms. A bus comes to the stop in front of me and picks everyone up. The busker is disregarded by everyone walking by. The personality of the street is busy. No one is walking for pleasure. The busker plays “Knocking on Heaven’s Door”.
4:11 p.m. A business man carrying Dunkin Donuts coffee and wearing brown aviator sunglasses gives the busker a dollar. His blonde girlfriend smiles at him. I sit on a stair ledge and only three people acknowledge me.
4:16 p.m. An Asian man walks by with his head poking out like a turtle. He rolls a canary-yellow suitcase next to him. I continue down Jackson Boulevard.
4:21 p.m. I pick up the scent of popcorn and I am confused as to why. A few more steps and I pass Garrett’s Popcorn Shop, solving my own question.
4:24 p.m. I turn right onto South State Street and see the DePaul building in front of me. The stairs descending to the red line are to my right, tempting me to go back home. I decide to end my walk here. I walked 4.28 miles in 2 hours and 10 minutes.
