Last weekend I left a cold and windy city for an even colder and windier one when I boarded a plane from Boston to Chicago. Silly thing to do, I know, but the desire to see my friends before they move half-way around the world was reason enough. Amazingly the plane ride alone was worth the price of admission: behind me a prospective Harvard MBA student being lectured by a fifty-something year old businessman on the value (or rather lack thereof) of graduate school in general and MBA programs at elite universities in particular. It was obvious to me and most of the other people who couldn’t help but listen to his rather loud diatribes that he probably did not make it into any of those programs or for whatever reason did not go to grad school and was quite bitter about it. My favorite quote of the evening related to the topic of knowing your spouse: “It took me 25 years to find out that my wife shaves her mustache”. Priceless!
On the other side of the aisle another interesting dialogue, or should I say monologue, with an unexpected twist. A twenty-something year old woman with a preference for window seats sat down and proceeded to talk her neighbor’s ear off for the first hour of the flight. I was a little annoyed (really, who needs to know about her ex-boyfriends) and felt mildly sorry for him until I turned back an hour later and found him sprawled across the middle seat asleep with his head on her shoulder.
Having only been at Chicago O’Hare before, I was really looking forward to exploring the city. My friends were great tour guides - we walked the magnificent mile at night to avoid the hoards of suburban holiday shoppers, and I got the whole architectural tour of the city the next day, including a lake front stroll, ending up on the Christkindlmarket at Daley Plaza, which I quickly declared to be an authentic German Christmas market. We ate potato pancakes, pretzels, crepes and drank spiced hot Gluehwein out of boot-shaped mugs that are so kitschy that they’re almost cool. Who would have thought, one of my favorite German Christmas traditions alive in Chicago.
After a fun evening of great food, wine and lots of geeky transit talk, we got up at what felt to be the crack of dawn the next morning to leave the city for a cross country race in Gilberts, Il. Incidentally it had snowed the night before and the thought of running through swamps and creeks in sub-freezing temperatures for 5 miles didn’t really seem that appealing. Some of the runners wore plastic bags inside their running shoes and had duct-taped the shoes to their ankles, undoubtedly following incidences in previous years that involved shoes lost in mud and manure (Reason #1,528 for carrying duct tape around at all times). Turns out that the cold weather worked to our advantage, the ground was solid and covered with powdered snow everywhere and the remaining obstacles, slippery hills and tree trunks and fences to climb, were manageable. The race was super fun and, as always, the best part was the amazing brunch we had back in Chicago an hour later. The afternoon was spent checking out Frank Lloyd Wright’s architecture in Oak Park, after which I unfortunately had to get on a plane back to Boston.
Turns out that Chicago is everything that Boston and New York aren’t. Unlike Boston, it’s truly a big city with amazing architecture that makes great use of the waterfront and where one can get a good Mexican meal. Unlike New York, it’s vibrant, energetic and diverse without being frantic, hectic and overwhelming. And unlike in New York or Boston, the people are friendly.
