(part II)
My near death experience hadn't done much to heighten any sense within me; I was escorted across the street by the nice folks on scooters with only one thought ping!ing around inside my skull. That thought was not "Jeepers creepers, I've just cheated death" - oh, no - but "I'm a wee bit peckish".
Off to food it was, then. My companions and I continued on to Michigan Avenue, passing by an area slowly evolving into some type of festival. My hunger the ornery Viking that it was, I did not stop to ask what the street was being prepared for. I walked on, passed the south wall of The Art Institute of Chicago, and came on on The Magnificent Mile.
The first thing I noticed about the Mile was how loud it was. Sirens sounding ceaselessly; people talking on their cell phones or to each other, or both; cars sitting idle on the congested streets, horns blaring.
The second thing I noticed about the Mile was how many restaurants lined the place. These numerous restaurants stood like books on a library shelf.
Apt Teacher, her son and I went to the only familiar place: Subway. We had to cross the avenue to get there, merging with the migrating herd (and I do mean that with the purest sincerity) of people converging on the crosswalk.
I looked to the cars waiting impatiently in their stagnant queues. Why didn't they walk, or take the few hundred buses dotting the sea of pavement far as the eye could see? They'd get to their destinations more quickly. Yet they sat in their cars, bemoaning the city and its people. They were still sitting in their cars, bemoaning the city and its people, when I entered the long, impossibly narrow Subway and ate my lunch.
Those cars were still idling in the street as I migrated back across and went into the Art Museum.
I won't sit here and explain how much I in love with that place I am because that would take days to do. I will say that my mind boggled at the amount of artwork within, that the photography exhibit I visited was exquisite and that I still own the "Ghastlycrumb Tinies" shirt I bought at the gift shop.
I wanted to chain myself to one of the benches and never leave.
My near death experience hadn't done much to heighten any sense within me; I was escorted across the street by the nice folks on scooters with only one thought ping!ing around inside my skull. That thought was not "Jeepers creepers, I've just cheated death" - oh, no - but "I'm a wee bit peckish".
Off to food it was, then. My companions and I continued on to Michigan Avenue, passing by an area slowly evolving into some type of festival. My hunger the ornery Viking that it was, I did not stop to ask what the street was being prepared for. I walked on, passed the south wall of The Art Institute of Chicago, and came on on The Magnificent Mile.
The first thing I noticed about the Mile was how loud it was. Sirens sounding ceaselessly; people talking on their cell phones or to each other, or both; cars sitting idle on the congested streets, horns blaring.
The second thing I noticed about the Mile was how many restaurants lined the place. These numerous restaurants stood like books on a library shelf.
Apt Teacher, her son and I went to the only familiar place: Subway. We had to cross the avenue to get there, merging with the migrating herd (and I do mean that with the purest sincerity) of people converging on the crosswalk.
I looked to the cars waiting impatiently in their stagnant queues. Why didn't they walk, or take the few hundred buses dotting the sea of pavement far as the eye could see? They'd get to their destinations more quickly. Yet they sat in their cars, bemoaning the city and its people. They were still sitting in their cars, bemoaning the city and its people, when I entered the long, impossibly narrow Subway and ate my lunch.
Those cars were still idling in the street as I migrated back across and went into the Art Museum.
I won't sit here and explain how much I in love with that place I am because that would take days to do. I will say that my mind boggled at the amount of artwork within, that the photography exhibit I visited was exquisite and that I still own the "Ghastlycrumb Tinies" shirt I bought at the gift shop.
I wanted to chain myself to one of the benches and never leave.
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