Why I Still Like the City, by Misreall, aged in wood
Last Sunday I decided to go downtown. I needed something from a store on Michigan Ave. Normally I avoid Boul Mich on weekends because of the gawking crowds of people who are, apparently, all, every single freaking one, from some town that has no buildings of more than two stories. As I think even some of the buildings on Deadwood are more than two stories I have no idea where this might be, but there they mill, blocking the thouroughfare, stopping so suddenly that you and the twenty-nine people behind you all pile into a lump that they don't even seem to notice.
And that doesn't even take into account the homeless people (you can always tell a local from a tourist. The locals don't see them and the tourists all, also, come from somewhere with no homeless population at all because they are either shocked, horrified, frightened or disgusted.), the street performers (or whatever you call people who paint themselves silver for money), the musicians, and the guys who paint characatures (I loathe them in particular, but at least they stay to the side).
Inspite of these many and varied horrors I had to go. I got off of the el at State and Lake, which is always deserted on Sunday, and it is a last moment of perfect peace before I push through the rough mob of yahoos and youkels. If you are a youkel, by the way, I don't apologize for spelling it wrong. It is as much as you deserve.
And then, I heard someone call my name.
Now I have lived in the same town for fifteen years, and I grew up right near there, and yet I can walk around for weeks sometimes without ever running into anyone I know, so it was pretty strange to run into my friend Bob and his friend Paulo downtown on a Sunday afternoon.
We stood on this pretty deserted corner talking for a few minutes when this very pretty girl with a tray filled with coffee drinks came up to us and offered us a, well, coffee. And then she checked to see if we wanted seconds, and disapeared back to wherever pretty girls who appear with coffee come from. I have been to plenty of parties with worse company and far worse refreshments.
So I salute you city life. Michigan Avenue was just as bad as I thought it would be, but the drinks were good.
And that doesn't even take into account the homeless people (you can always tell a local from a tourist. The locals don't see them and the tourists all, also, come from somewhere with no homeless population at all because they are either shocked, horrified, frightened or disgusted.), the street performers (or whatever you call people who paint themselves silver for money), the musicians, and the guys who paint characatures (I loathe them in particular, but at least they stay to the side).
Inspite of these many and varied horrors I had to go. I got off of the el at State and Lake, which is always deserted on Sunday, and it is a last moment of perfect peace before I push through the rough mob of yahoos and youkels. If you are a youkel, by the way, I don't apologize for spelling it wrong. It is as much as you deserve.
And then, I heard someone call my name.
Now I have lived in the same town for fifteen years, and I grew up right near there, and yet I can walk around for weeks sometimes without ever running into anyone I know, so it was pretty strange to run into my friend Bob and his friend Paulo downtown on a Sunday afternoon.
We stood on this pretty deserted corner talking for a few minutes when this very pretty girl with a tray filled with coffee drinks came up to us and offered us a, well, coffee. And then she checked to see if we wanted seconds, and disapeared back to wherever pretty girls who appear with coffee come from. I have been to plenty of parties with worse company and far worse refreshments.
So I salute you city life. Michigan Avenue was just as bad as I thought it would be, but the drinks were good.
posted by misreall at 2:00 PM
3 Comments:
I have a similar story:
Yesterday I was outside the building and I heard someone call my name. It was Julie, the woman I work with. We stood out there and commented on the weather, then she asked if I liked our coffee. I said it sucked.
Wait... this isn't the same at all, is it?
=(
Well, there was a girl and coffee, so you have that at least.
If you called Julie a "girl" she'd probably laugh, look a little flustered, then eat your head.
In any case, I envy you your Perfect Moment.
Jerk.
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