Fun Fact: There are 3 Damen Stops!
Not only does the Blue line have a Damen stop, but the Pink and Brown do too! I embarrass myself at the end so keep reading, folks!
I’m going to start off this entry by saying never assume anything. It only makes an ass out of “u” and me. In this case, it was just me. I wanted to go to the Damen stop in Wicker Park, and so I hopped on the Brown line thinking that it was the same place. Wrong. I should have looked at the CTA map. At the Brown line Damen stop, I was the only person. It was eerie.
I tried to make the most of the hour and forty-five minutes I spent on the train, and told myself it was an adventure. On the inside I cried a little since I still had a ton of homework to do after my walk, but I stayed positive and appreciated seeing new things as I looked out the window of the train.
3:13 p.m. I finally get off at the BLUE LINE Damen stop to walk my favorite block in Chicago — North Milwaukee Avenue. It’s honorary name is The Flat Iron Avenue, as told by a brown sign. I hadn’t noticed that last time when I was here. The sidewalk here is polka-dotted from all the spit-out gum rubbed into the concrete. I spy a square of cement with a ton of names and a smiley face carved into it. I can imagine the young people coming out of the shops after the cement workers had left and leaving their mark in the pavement, a personal secret. To my left, I can see a painted Michael Jackson portrait in someone’s apartment window. It is very realistic. Five people in my immediate line of sight have tons of tattoos. I love it.
3:16 p.m. There is a bookstore called “Myopic Books” to my right with cigarette butts littered outside the door. They have a fall leaf/pumpkin/pine cone wreath in the window. I spy a silver moped parked, and beyond that sits a Dr. Marten’s store. The little leather boots in the Doc Martens window intrigue me.
3:18 p.m. “And I hit him right in the face!” I catch the last bit of a conversation between two Hispanic men holding hands. One has long, flowing black hair and a teal Polo on, while the other has short, black hair and wears a blue ombré striped Polo. They both sport skinny jeans. My heavily tattooed people count is up to nine now.
3:21 p.m. I see a cool, colored light fixture on the back wall of a retro furniture store. A moth fights the glass pane of the window, losing the battle of making it back outside. I go in to take a photo of the lights and see the Hispanic couple from earlier looking at furniture.
3:23 p.m. I see and smell a garbage can that is overflowing. A brick apartment building has a huge, green tree in front of it. I am surprised the leaves have not changed color. On the bottom of the building, there is Insomnia Cookies, Goorin Bros. Hat Shop, and Saint Alfred. I am extremely hungry and quickly go in and grab an Insomnia Cookie and some milk. I come out and notice that the hat shop has an ornate chandelier inside. I can only smell cookies. I cross the street. A man blasting rap music in a red convertible has a fluffy, white dog in the passenger’s seat. It barks at me.
3:33 p.m. I spy a building called “The People’s Gas Light and Coke Company”. Seems interesting, as the stores below it are Carhartt and ALDO. Next to it is a quaint little pub that’s painted orange. Very festive for Halloween! My heavily tattooed person count is now 11.
There are no benches anywhere I walk. North Milwaukee Ave is a very walkable block sine there is no place to sit. You are forced to meander up and down and go into all the cute little shops. There are lots of thrift stores here, as well as a ginormous Reckless Records. It seems to be a very “hipster” place in Wicker Park.
3:39 p.m. I am outside a sewing machine store called Goldblatt. The outside is worn down, giving it a unique texture. A US Postal Service woman goes in and drops off mail before returning to her cart of packages. A FedEx worker rolls an empty dolly from his truck to the inside of the store. He soon comes out with it stacked full of packages. A man walks by. He is bald with a ginormous, black beard and the thickest back hair I have ever seen on a person. He shows it off in a grey tank top. I hear a car rush by.
3:43 p.m. Jeni’s Ice Cream is to my right. The air smells warm and sweet. A man with a brown “man bun” texts on his phone as his black and white chihuahua sniffs the sidewalk stained with melted ice cream. My heavily tattooed person count is 14. Two bicyclists whiz by and one of them has a black, fuzzy beard.
3:46 p.m. I smell soap and hear a coffee maker as I pass Volumes Book Cafe. It suddenly reeks of trash for a moment, and I suspect it is the brown puddle by the curb behind me. Volumes has adorable monster decorations on their window for Halloween. A family walks by, all of them with blonde hair of some shade and speaking a different language. I’m guessing Russian or German. A car honks. Tattooed person count: 16. I hear the ‘L’ go by.
3:48 p.m. I am hit with a pungent smell of sweet soaps as I take a few more steps. Nearly next to the Volumes Book Cafe is a store called Mojo Spa and Handmade Cosmetics. It smells flowery and amazing. Across the street, there’s a building with very ornate details. I am guessing it is an apartment. Below it is a Sushi Burrito and Poke Bowl place. A shirtless man rolls by on a skateboard. He is extremely muscular, and looks like he could make it to the finals on Survivor. Pigeons fly overhead — about 12 of them. A little scrap of white paper skitters by.
3:53 p.m. Metamorph Tattoo Studios is to my right. A man rides by on a retro red motorbike. A pigeon stupidly picks at the sidewalk cracks, which hold nothing but cigarette butts and leaves. It flys away.
3:57 p.m. I spy a cool wall of street art and stop to take a photo. A man leaning on his red car was on his phone, but notices me and looks up for a second to admire the wall. I happened to snap the photo right as he glanced up at the artwork. Heavily tattooed person count: 17. A woman wearing a royal blue top walks a little black wiener dog. Leaves skip along the pavement and I spy an abandoned apple sauce pouch by the curb. The buildings across from the street art are all so unique. One of them has interesting little, blue tiles for the windows.
4:02 p.m. “I just go crazy!” I overhear an Asian woman say. She has short, choppy hair and is talking to a man wearing khaki shorts (tattoo count: 18). The woman carries a cigarette in her left hand at her side and gestures with her right hand as she speaks. Her jeans have huge, gaping holes in them.
Here on North Milwaukee Avenue, there are so many clothing, food, furniture, vintage/thrift shops. There are many walls of street art to look at. People who come here are looking for something unique, which is what makes this street so walkable.
4:06 p.m. At Wood St. and Wolcott Ave., I turn back. I know Reckless Records is down farther, but I find this stretch of the block to be more lively and have more shops. Plus I should spare my wallet the trauma. It is quiet since it is a Monday. On Saturdays it is packed with pedestrians here.
4:07 p.m. A store called “Personal Priviledge” blasts Adele’s “Set Fire to the Rain”. Tattoo count: 19. I cross the street again. We are up to 20 heavily tattooed people now. A black and white pitbull is tied up outside Volumes Book Cafe. He wears a black backpack and sniffs the trash can he is tied to. A dog across the street (I can’t tell what breed it is) barks at a guy on a skateboard. The man holding the leash is on the phone and yanks the dog back in hopes to calm him. The skateboarding guy smiles and hops off his board. Tattoo count keeps going up. I am at 27 now. I decide to sketch the pitbull sitting in front of the shops.
4:26 p.m. I finish talking to a stranger named Zach. He has an orange beard and is from Oakland, CA. He saw me sketching and asked what I was drawing, and then complimented my shirt. We began chatting and I explained our class to answer his question about what I was sketching. He came here to travel around — he took a train from Denver! I told him a little about the city, and he was surprised to hear that it is very segregated. He told me he is staying at a hostel near Lincoln Park, so I recommended him the $3.50 slice of pizza you can get from Whole Foods (I figured he was on a budget). We talked for about 10 minutes before we wished each other good luck. We shook hands and parted ways.
Now here’s the golden part of this entire conversation. Remember when I ate an Insomnia Cookie earlier? I had been walking around THIS WHOLE TIME with chocolate on my face. I did not even know until I opened my Snapchat app after talking to Zach. HE DIDN’T EVEN SAY ANYTHING! As if getting off at the wrong Damen stop wasn’t enough, the universe had decided to curse me again. Wow. Defeated yet happy (since I was after all, on my favorite block), I walked back to the train stop.
Response to Jacobs’ Article
Punctuation and focal points are important to the life of the street and downtown because they add diversity and excitement. If every sentence had a period, it would be a boring paragraph. We can apply this metaphor to the streets. If every street simply led to another, it would make for a monotonous city. A good example of punctuation in the Loop is the Chicago Riverwalk. Instead of continuing down a dark street shaded by tall buildings, you can change up the scenery and walk along the water. Other examples would be the bridges over the river, or Grant Park. All of these things add excitement to the city. A great focal point would be Buckingham Fountain. It is “surprising and delightful”, as Jacobs says in the article. It does not lose its charm every time you visit, and it does not fail to attract tourists. I would argue with Jacobs that the Loop does have focal points, you just have to be an avid walker and have an optimistic eye while meandering downtown. Millennium Park is arguably another focal point in Chicago’s Loop. People gather near the fountains with the faces on them to chat or play in the water. The Bean attracts lots of people, and from there they wander around the park’s path. It does not “stale” as Jacobs says, as locals continue to go there time after time.
