HELLO, MY NAME IS ANDRES AND I’M GOING TO BE YOUR BOYFRIEND FOR THE NEXT FIFTEEN MINUTES
THE STREETS
11:55am — I smell cigarettes as I leave the Lake Red Line Station. I walk out on Washington and Wabash, in the middle of the Loop, and I am already bombarded by smells, sights, and people. As I walk down the road, it’s 90+℉, but where I am has shade from the skyscrapers and a temporary breeze. I see a street performer who is playing bucket drums and he’s actually really good. The rhythmic music he makes with the familiar beat earned him spare change frequently as pedestrians passed by. Across from him, another street artist, whose specialty was sketches. As I passed by him, I took a picture of his Chicago themed work, which had an excerpt about his life and his reason behind selling his art on the street.
FOUNTAIN
12:00pm — I arrive at Michigan and Randolph where a giant fountain stands tall, gushing water out and providing a cool mist to the people who want it. This fountain, much like all of Chicago was of course, a tourist attraction. People crowded around it and took selfies; they climbed up on the fountain ledge to get a good angle. As I walked past the water, I group behind me, two girls and three guys were having a conversation about taking aesthetic group pictures, an idea that was shot down by one of the guys fairly quickly. I agreed with him, it was too hot to purposefully stand anywhere for any particular amount of time. As I walked up the ramp what went alongside the fountain, the atmosphere seemed like it was getting quieter and quieter, as I moved more into the park and away from Michigan Avenue, there was less noise and less crowds; even less cigarette smoke and construction dust.
Further up the ramp I saw people sitting on the ramp, covered by the shade of trees. Two men sat together, they were dressed like they worked construction in their yellow vests, I assumed they were on their lunch break. “No Rain” by Blind Melon (a personal favorite) played out of one of their bluetooth speakers and they talked about family woes: paying bills, mother in law’s, buying a house, the whole nine. Not too far away from them were a woman by herself reading, and a man with a headset listening to music and relaxing on the grass.
PUBLIC ART
12:05pm — Past the ramp there was public art. The art featured big statues that looked like it was held together by leather and rivets, and it felt like leather, but was a dark brown color. Each statue had a different twist and swirl, but they looked like a set. On the last statue, a couple was canoodling and climbing up the statue and it just made me uncomfortable because I took a picture of it anyways, but whatever. I go through the art set and feel another gust of wind. Since the park had lots of vegetation, there was a nice shade (this was soon to be over) but it was still super hot and humid outside, so humid in fact that you could visible see the irritation on people’s faces as they walked through the park. But even through the irritation, families walked around, couples appeared, tourists, and business people on their lunch break still chose to sit in Maggie Daley Park, probably because it had a sense of calm. It was far enough into the park where the street noise was dim, and we were at a section of the park that didn’t have as much tourism as it could have.
THE BEAN
12:15pm- At the Bean, there was no shade. You could feel the full force of the 95℉ and it was not a fun time. It was also a tourist site, so lots of people swarmed around the Bean. As I walked closer to Cloudgate, tourists were being led by groups, schools were on a field trip, I saw little girls dressed in navy blue blouses and skirts, the boys in navy blue shirts and khaki pants. Dozens of families with their small children and toddlers gathered around the Bean and the general area, admiring the size of Cloudgate. It was actually quite a big bean, as I stepped underneath it, I was impressed by how little smears from oily hands were on it. Everyone there was either touching the Bean, taking a selfie in its reflection, or both. Hundreds of people crowded around, and to the not far from us, was a small jazz band playing beautifully and making the general crowd noise even louder.
I decided to follow the jazz music to see if I could find the band playing live, or see if it was a recording. I walked deeper into Maggie Daley Park and couldn’t locate the source of the jazz music, it felt a little ubiquitous and I finally got to a point in the park where I could look over and see a good landscape, but I decided to leave and keep walking elsewhere. I walk down Randolph and see the flags for different countries juxtaposed against the blue sky and it looked really pretty. The buildings around me looked more modern and appeared in more shapes than the basic long rectangle. Walking down Randolph was busier than my time in Maggie Daley Park, but it was still a lot calmer and quieter than Michigan Avenue. Although I did walk by a fire truck whose siren was going off on Randolph and Harbor, but it was the only loud object around.
ANDRES, MY BOYFRIEND FOR THE NEXT 15 MINUTES
12:30pm — I walked East enough to see the lake, and I really wanted to go down and walk along the dock, but it was difficult to get from where I was down to the lakefront because I walked up a ramp instead on down Grant Park. I came across a yellow sign that read “NO ACCESS TO LAKEFRONT NAVY PIER” and I was a little discouraged. But then I realized that I am not a driver, I am a walker and I could easily find my way to the lakefront by walking.
I walked further to the sign and saw a ramp heading now toward the lake. As I approached it, it was locked and chained and it didn’t really look like a place I could walk without getting in trouble, so my awesome walker mentality got shot down once again. :( At this point in my walk I was more lost than I usually am and I basically walked in circles to find a way to get to the lakefront. I walked by a big building with a gangway leading to lake but it was also a no-go, so I made my way around and before I made another attempt, a voice called out to me. “Excuse me are you lost? Are you trying to get to the lake?” I turned around and saw an older African American man who said his name was Andres. He looked like he worked at the building I walked by. I said I was trying to get to the lake, and he said, “Well my name is Andres and I’m going to be your boyfriend for the next fifteen minutes while I show you how to get there.” What he said gave me pause, but instead of my usual “I already have a boyfriend” response, I figured whatever I need to get to the lake and he’s willing to help, so I let him escort me and give me directions. As we walk down another street, he asks me what I’m doing and why I want to go to the lake. I tell him it’s for my walking Chicago course at DePaul and he leads me to a bridge not far from where he found me. Andres pointed across the street to a staircase and told me to go all the way down, turn left, and go straight all the way to Navy Pier. He also pointed behind us to the lakefront so I had some visual cues about where I was. At this point in our walk, Andres turns to me and reaches out his hand. “Well I’m sorry I’m going to have to divorce you now, I hope you’re not too sad about it.” I reply with “I think I’ll live,” and with that we shook hands and I was back on track.
IN A DARK DISMAL TUNNEL
12:45pm — I walked down the staircase Andres told me to walk down, and I turned left as instructed. At this point I had to prepare to walk under a dark, seemingly scary underpass. I headed onward, cars parked along the sides and homeless people with their tents looked over at me. It was humid in the underpass.
More humid than the 95℉ humidity in the world above me, this was stickier. As I walked through, an older man in a bright light blue shirt rode his bike near me, speaking on his headset about dropping his album. That struck me as a weird thing to hear because of his age and what we was doing. I saw a light at the end of the darkness, and I came to a parking lot, a mom tried to pay her ticket stub for parking and two fishermen sat in their car looking over at me, a very sweaty teenager who had no business in an underpass. I finally make it to the lakefront, but not without two ladies, one with a disability (perhaps down syndrome?) and who I presumed was her sister, who both gave me dirty looks as if they owned the pier and I was not allowed entry. To my left, I see the Navy Pier Ferris Wheel and a popup bar playing Bruno Mars’s music. I look ahead and I’m at the docks, I look down, and I see a compass.
THE DOCK
1:00pm — I finally made it to the dock. Boats were lined up any the shoreline in all shapes and sizes. I saw one particularly gigantic boat, that was playing 80’s music. I think they were having a party. As I walk further I see runners sprinting for their daily exercise, groups of friends hanging out, and a group of ladies who rode in a golf cart down the dock. The atmosphere was calm and peaceful, Jackson wasn’t a very loud street. It did get loud however when a siren blared in the Northwest direction heading South.
1:15pm — It was at this point in the 95℉ heat that I started to feel dizzy. I sat down and rested my feet in the water. Using the decibel app, I measured the waves to be 58dB. Windchimes chirped from a nearby boat and the waves crashed peacefully while I regained my balance.
ON THE ROAD AGAIN
1:30pm — I walked down Jackson to head back into the Loop. Dizzy, tired, and having no water, I drudged by the SAIC and noticed the art displayed on their walls. It was very contemporary and political. The Loop got louder and busier the more I entered it, and once again the shade of the skyscrapers helped me until I reached the Adams and Wabash train station.
