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Being in Chicago on the first day of spring, when it’s snowing, is probably not the best time to form a first impression. The natives don’t seem, for the most part, particularly cheery. The Natives, first inhabitants of this land, are nowhere to be seen. Neither are shopping cart people, or panhandlers. I spent the morning riding the train through underground tunnels, to Chinatown, past the downtown and north to Wrigley Stadium, wandering around a couple of nearby neighbourhoods along the way and saw only one - panhandler, that is. Either everything’s rosy, or the poor folk are systematically run out of town and away from any public places.
I went to the Whole Foods, not because it’s my favourite place (the owner/founder has advocated against a single payer health care system) but because it was close and I know I can find relatively affordable, organic, vegan food options. I learned that they serve only coffee, no tea (which bummed me out since I signed the Universal Declaration Against Drinking Coffee after the Copenhagen Climate Summit), had some fresh salad greens and grains, purchased some micro brewed stout and food for later in the day, bought a Street Sense newspaper and met Tyrone, born and bred Chicagoan and the only panhandler I saw in all of the city.
You’d almost think the US dollar wasn’t tanking (it’s on par with the Canadian, that’s how bad it is) because they’re funneling all their tax money into death and destruction overseas. Not a single homeless person. Obama must be so proud. This is, after all, where he became known for his “community organizing,” that socialist stuff he can no longer admit to now that he’s king of the dung heap.
I asked Lewis, the Street Sense vendor (whose board of directors includes but is not limited to the president and vice president of Socore Energy, and representatives from Judd R. Horwitz & Co., Kurman Communications, Verizon Wireless, Stonegate Development, and the US Senate) which way to the inner city. He said, “you don’t want to go there.” I said that I did, tried to explain to Lewis that I want to see what’s happening on the streets of Chicago. No, he insisted, it wouldn’t be a good place for me to go. So I hopped a subway train and attempted to find my own way around and get a feel for the place before the big party tonight.
As I said, it’s probably not the best day to form an impression of Chicago. Beyond the snow and cold, and of course the wind, there are many closed storefronts, empty buildings, and a rather significant amount of strange innuendo from those seeking or selling sexual favours. When I arrived early in the wee hours, for example, there were two black guys in the subway station offering one or possibly both of them for sale. They were completely confused when I asked them directions about how to get where I was going. And today I asked a man on the subway train where a good place to go might be and he suggested Chinatown. On one side of the road was the traditional old town, on the other side, he said, is the strip mall. He mentioned the strip mall a couple of times until I finally I told him I’m not really into that and he left me alone.
Folks know that the Cuban revolution was about overthrowing the gambling and prostitution empire, right? No? Golly, I wonder why they don’t want folks to know that and just think of it an evil socialist dictatorship instead.
Chicago’s train system is fairly efficient, but definitely in need of cleaning and upgraded signage so that visitors don’t get frustrated trying to figure out that $2.25 only gets you a one way ride, you can add a quarter to an already used ticket and get a two hour transfer, or pay 5 bucks and ride all day. One rather surly attendant suggested I spend my short visit here writing to the transit authority with my concerns. They oughta hire someone like me to look at subway systems afresh, and tell them what they can do to improve comprehensibility. But they won’t. It’s all about cars, and people who can afford them.
Speaking of that, I won’t tell you how much this room is costing me these two nights ( It’s a funky hotel, I’m resting and watching a documentary about homelessness in the USA on MSNBC enjoying a Great Lakes Stout and the delicious Uncle Eddies Vegan cookies unavailable anywhere at home), but I will tell you that after a morning trying to sort out the public transit system and unsuccessfully find a decent cup of tea through the cold and wind and snow, it’s almost worth it. Jay got a relatively good rate for those of us travelling to be at his 50th birthday party … the regular rate is over $250 a night. Can you imagine? Then there’s the mini-bar, the additional for purchase bath products, bath robes, and the $14.99 plus tax movie options. Jay and I have definitely travelled in different directions along the economic pathway of life, but thankfully we’ve remained good friends and we can share stories about what it’s like on either side of the fence.
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