Apologies for the touristy picture above but I felt that it sort of summed up my trip back to Chicago these past 2 weeks. As I rode the trains and buses, walked through crowds or stood in drinking establishments I couldn't help but feel, at least a little, like a tourist. I was staying with my amazing friend Amy who did more than needed to make Nilla and myself feel at home but the fact that I was only in town for a couple weeks and living out of suitcase made it obviously hard to feel like I used to in my prior life as a Chicagoan. I found myself forgetting where some of the major streets intersected with others and on an occasion stood dumbfounded at the CTA booth as I fumbled to slide my card into the machine the right way. I never was one for the public transportation system there (too crowded and it makes me nervous), but nonetheless I was sent back a few rungs on the ladder of having a complete understanding of the city as I once had.
I saw others that reminded me of who I was when I lived there. It often felt like I was looking directly at myself just a year ago. Kids with messy hair zoomed by on fixed gear bikes, smoke billowed out of lungs and old friends piled in and out of bars. Cars parallel parked with ease but most commonly stood in traffic behind red lights or orange construction signs. I flinched at the noise of the trains and traffic the same way I flinched the first time I played guitar with a drummer back in junior high... crash, boom, isk, smash. Everything was exciting and scarey; I felt like I'd get mugged this time. My city wits weren't as sharp as they needed to be. I kept Nilla's wallet in my front pocket, sure that the bright red purse she was carrying around would get snatched.
We came back with all of our things, and quite a bit more. No one fucked with us. Everyone that I wanted to see came to meet me and with open arms welcomed me back, didn't want to let go, asked when I'd come back without a plan to leave again. I came back to Chicago with a clean head full of new experiences and ideas, worldly. The sun reflected off of me and the rain beaded up, fresh coat of wax. People looked at me with cameras and then flashed, gone the next second.
