Where’s North from Here?
A brief adventure in Lincoln Park
Wide Load: There was a UPS deliveryman at a corner store today on Armitage; I know this I saw him in a spot of trouble. On his dolley stood a stack of boxes nearly as tall as the man himself, differing wildly in size and shape. One of them was wide enough to give him a hard time as he backed his way into the store. He tutted about his predicament as I passed him by, getting ready myself to double back on my trail. I think I might have liked to chat with him. I would have, if I wasn’t horribly socially awkward and dead-set on finding some eatery I’d fixated on for the afternoon. I witnessed him for a good fifteen seconds as I waited for the light to change, shared with him a smile, and mozied through the crosswalk to find my way back to the restaurant. I wasn’t too sad about it, though; the smell of bagels wafted again down the street and I was off like a shot.
Today: a woman wearing sunglasses and airpods, walking her grinning golden retriever; a group of commuters idling on the sidewalk, waiting for a bus near the Armitage station; one big step in the sidewalk that nearly killed me; a woman sitting on the steps of a church, chattering away on her phone about a holiday she wanted; big, open windows; a chalkboard menu full of things I haven’t tried; little weeds growing up beside tree trunks.
Fortune Cookie: I ordered a La Dolce bagel and found the surprise of a fortune cookie in my bag. It was hidden among my napkins, only noticed when I sat down to eat. I slid a fortune about confidence from an unbroken cookie and felt disappointed in the lucky numbers.
CBA Sticker: An unexpected treat for the tastebuds of my aesthetics popped up as I ordered my food. Chicago Bagel Authority (CBA) sells stickers for $1.00–1.50 — that’s an absolute theft. As I waited for my order, I spotted the basket near the tip jar on the counter and couldn’t help but get one. It matched the building’s feel; a dark mix of modern and vintage aesthetics, vying for a neat simplicity over outright minimalism. It certainly does its job.
Where’s North from Here?: While I was walking down Sheffield today, I saw a man come down the opposite direction of the sidewalk. I had that idle sort of romantic daydream that lasts about three years in the mind and half a second in real-time before I saw him take out both of his headphones and meet my eyes. We stopped on the corner as we crossed paths. Apparently, he was new in town and had been wandering around for a while trying to get to Lincoln Ave. His hair went a bit past his ears, a dark black, and he wore a black tanktop advertising some event in New Orleans. I think his nails were painted, and a few necklaces hung from his neck like strung fish. I pointed him in the right direction as he reeled me in.
A city is made of moving, walking parts, made from people who cycle through each space and imprint upon their streets. Every person carries with them a catalog of experiences, as does each place. These catalogs are our lists of adventures, the happenings of the world around us, concentrated as the minutia of daily life. People see these details without ever really noticing them; they minimize every groundbreaking experience as something normal. They are anything but. We disregard what is in front of us, devaluing our experiences instead of finding emphatic joy in the details of our worlds. We lose ourselves in plans and intentions. We set a goal to reach someplace or something. It is a desperate attempt to guide ourselves and to give meaning to what we do, but it breeds an ignorance of our astounding habitat; by instead paying attention to our surroundings, we connect to ourselves, as well as other people. It rebirths us into more aware, cognizant human beings.
(Response WC: 164).
(Title from Gorillaz — Glitter Freeze)
