The Second City

Chicago has a few nick names. For example, The Windy City, City of Big Shoulders, The City That Works, White City. Or, The Second City. Second not only because it burned down almost completely in 1871 torched by a cow as revenge for the countless BBQs. There is more to it. It is known also for it’s second largest central business district, second largest museum, second largest public library, second largest art gallery, second cleanest urban waterfront in the world, the second highest bars-per capita, second largest labor pool, second largest urban Afrian-American concentration (actually, according to my research, Atlanta took that position in 2010), the world’s second largest Polish population (after Warsaw), the second most-used passenger regional rail network, second busiest airport (O’Hare), second busiest park (Lincoln Park), second largest fountain. It also formerly was the second largest city in the US (since 1990 it’s LA). It is the host of the second largest parade in the US.

Wait a second! That list is not complete. And it continues to grow. Recently, the world’s second largest fashion collection was announced for the Chicago History museum.

It also the second time to see Mark. The first time we met on Easter Island (he was the guy that has a similar taste of music!). I could spend my nights on his couch in the neighborhood of Pilsen and that was a great and generous offer. The second leg of my train was late by 5.5 hours. I only arrived late at night and he was sick and so we couldn’t do much together. Of course, he also had to work, so I went around the city by my own — we went for some Mexican food the next night though.

The first time I approached downtown (the “Loop” as they call it) I was instantly reminded of the Farbrausch demo Debris (a 177 KB demo) — all those brown brick buildings with the fire exit stairs, the skyscrapers and the railways with the silvery tubes going between them. No Hund though. And no snakes or sliding highways…

I took a bus city tour (a free T-Shirt always gets me!) around and explored the various streets and sights, some which be seen in the various photos. The feeling of the city is a very good one, and it is indeed a city with that special flair — not too rushed, not too laid back, not too weird either. I could live there, I think.

The next day I almost completely spent in the Art Institute of Chicago. It is huge and there is so much to see. I was so lucky to be there at the right time and the right place for the Roy Lichtenstein exhibition. I do love his artwork.

After seeing so many hours looking at paintings and sculptures (with an excellent audio guide — except the wrong pronouciation of the names of a few european artists (Van Gogh, Gauguin) were causing goose skin everytime they said it), I was completely exhausted. I couldn’t appreciate any more and I had to rest for a cafe.

As I got myself a ticket for the Blue Man Group that night, I took the metro to the northern neighborhoods — got myself a good steak and headed into the show. It was quite confusing because on one scroller they said no photography and the other said, well, if you don’t use flash… Anyway. After a few photos I was instructed to not take photos by the staff. The show itself was very refreshing and inventive. The drumming, the use of huge “iPads” screens and the interaction with the audience. There was a girl who was soooo good at improvising with the situation and it was such a great fun to watch. If you get the chance, give it a go.

After the show I got my last photo before the battery had gone flat and had a cocktail in a close by bar before heading back to Mark’s place.

They say, there’s always a first for everything. Well. I never had missed a flight before. I used Google to route me to the airport via public transport, and it said if I left at 6:38am, I would be at the airport at 7:30. My flight was at 8:40. Plenty of time!

I left Mark’s place the next morning at 6:35, walking 15 minutes to the metro station, where I saw the metro leave about one minute before I could reach it. Turns out that Google told me when the train would leave and NOT when I had to start walking to the station (though it WAS part of the route). I got a bit nervous. It was 7am already. The next train 10 minutes later got delayed just before entering Lake/Clair station where I had to change. I rushed down to the Blue Line and… missed the train to the airport by 10 seconds.

Now it was 7:30am. I departed at the train at the airport at 8am. “I ran. I ran until my muscles burned and my veins pumped battery acid. Then I ran some more” (Chuck Palahniuk). Terminal 3 was of course the one furthest away from the train station. I arrived at the BlueJet counter at 8:07am.

“Boston!”, I yelled. He calmy took my passport and said: Three minutes later the counter would have closed. I sent my backpack through the X ray and made my way to the looong queue of the security check. Nothing was moving. When I showed an officer my ticket (it had “priority screening” written on it too) and said that my plane would be boarding right now, she just replied: Yeah, but the departure is only at 8:40, you should be fine. I felt devastated. At 8:20 I made another attempt with different personel and she led me to the other, shorter queue.

But of course, whenever you are in a hurry, the screening takes extra long. It was the first time that the officer wanted my wooden die (the present from Alex and Alis) to be X-rayed, among my empty camera bag, my used tissue and other things.

I packed my stuff and got to the gate at around 8:33. The ground crew said, she was just about to close the gate… and I jumped through, ran down the aisle onto the plane and walked to my seat, repeatedly muttering excuses to the other passengers who tried to stare me down.

There is always a first time they say. For me, it wasn’t the first time to miss a flight, though.