Hello Chicago! [sings and dances in street]

I’ve always thought that when I grow up I’ll either have to live in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere or an apartment in downtown Some Big City. I am really opposed to the idea of living in a cookie cutter neighborhood. It’s so…boring. What is there to see? Annoying neighbors, ice cream trucks, old people jogging, other people’s lawns? I don’t know, when I look out my front window, I’d rather see rolling hills or a bustling street, not any of that junk. So once every month or so, I get a taste of what it would be like to live in the big city: when I walk through Chicago between train stations on my way home for the weekend. And let me tell you, I love it.

The smell. One moment I’ll smell the exhaust of a taxi, the next coffee from Starbucks, and then, for a brief moment when the breeze hits my face, I smell Chicago. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like a mixture of everything around me and its crisp and sweet and fresh. I probably look like a weirdo taking such big gulps of air, but it’s so good.

The sounds. If you just take a second, not to hear, but to listen, it’s amazing how the city changes from a jumble of honking cars and chattering people and squawking pigeons into something that’s almost musical. Seriously. It’s not chaotic, it’s a pattern and it flows, and it’s the perfect companion to the Paramore I’m listening to in my other ear.

The sights. It’s amazing to see so many different elements at one time. I look up and there are incredible overlapping skyscrapers in silver and black and brick. I look in front of me and I see all kinds of people, smiling and laughing, driven and speedy, quiet and relaxed. It’s so fun to just imagine where all these people are going and why and what they’re thinking about and how they live their lives. And then I look down at my blue chucks and they look different somehow. They’re not just my shoes anymore; they’re among the thousands, millions of shoes that have walked the same path on the same sidewalk in the same city for 200 years. They’re a small part of something huge – they’ve become a piece of history.

The feeling. When I walk down the sidewalk in my Chicago shoes and I smell that Chicago smell, I just feel completely elated. The weather may be beautiful and the temperature may be perfect, but walking down Madison Ave. makes it even more beautiful and perfect. I was stressing out about my stupid debit card and finding an ATM, but I literally could not stay mad. It just felt wrong to be angry as I made my way through the city, and I found myself starting to smile when I saw a couple with fanny packs and a baby in a stroller and important business people with their important briefcases. I didn’t want to get back on the train, I wanted to walk through the theatre district and the shopping district. I wanted to see all the buildings and I wanted to sit in a coffee shop and people watch. I just have this feeling that there’s so many possibilities, so many paths to take, so many doors to walk into. And because it’s such a vast place, everything and everyone is new. And yet, it all fits together in a beautiful, perfect, moving work of art.