in which elevated trains blow my mind

I am the sort of person who frequently, enthusiastically, and prematurely declares my love1. Whether it be for a place I have stayed in for only a few days, a television show I have seen just one or two episodes of, or a book I have just started reading, I will unflinchingly and unequivocally declare that I love it. I am the Ted Mosby of rash declarations of adoration, ready and willing to announce my undying love on the first date.

But generally, I am pretty spot on with my declarations, no matter how hasty they are. I know myself and what I like well enough to know pretty early on what sits well with me. I knew within a few days that I loved living in England. Within a few chapters that Jane Eyre was going to be my favorite book2. By just seeing the poster that (500) Days of Summer was going to be my favorite movie.

So, now that you know that about me, I will leave it up to you to assess the validity of the following statement:


Seriously. In love.

There are train tracks above the streets. There are benches that look like couches. There is a lake so big and blue it looks like sky. There are rusted iron bridges and skyscrapers with golden rooftops. There is a giant mirrored bean – a giant mirrored bean, I tell you!

And then there are the smaller things I am in love with, things more within my immediate sphere of existence. Like the fact that my apartment has a chalkboard wall3, and our closest grocery store is Trader Joe’s, which is essentially organic hipster paradise4. I love that our building has a doorman, which makes me feel like Eloise, and a rooftop garden, and there is a picture of an extraordinarily jovial Jesus in our bathroom . I am even mildly amused by the vocally needy cat that lives with us.

And then there is the fact that I am constantly surrounded by gallery exhibit of humanity, caught in the center of a whirlpool of extremity and experience. Within the walk I took today, I was surrounded by hundreds of different languages, ethnicities, cultures, and stories. And though I have only been here one day, I feel a part of the city, because it is essentially a world of strangers with only one thing that unites us all; the fact that in this moment, we all inhabit the same space, experiencing the same city, no matter how briefly. We are all taking goofy pictures of our reflections in a giant mirrored bean5.

And just twenty-four hours since my arrival, I can say with some degree of confidence that this summer is going to be legendary.

  1. Surprisingly, this doesn’t happen in relationships. Just in everything else.
  2. This is partially a lie. The first ten chapters of Jane Eyre are the least exciting part of the book, and I definitely restarted the book at least five times before I made it through them. However, once I got past, I feel instantly in deep love.
  3. I have a thing for chalkboard walls, and have long dreamed of living somewhere with one. However, it will probably be a long time until I am brave enough to actually draw on it. There is some subconscious wiring within me that screams, “Do not draw on walls!”
  4. The groceries are organic, not the hipsters.
  5. A giant mirrored bean, I tell you!
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7 thoughts on “in which elevated trains blow my mind

  1. MackenziLee says:

    Cloud Gate isn’t it? Or do the really call it the bean?

  2. MackenziLee says:

    Wait how come I an you?????

  3. Hannah says:

    Best comment thread ever. Glad you’re liking Chicago :)

  4. MJ-S says:

    Dig the footnotes.

    • MackenziLee says:

      thanks :) It’s sort of how i think – in asides. I guess I can blame that one on over exposure to Shakespeare.

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