We boarded the early crack-o-dawn train, and sat next to passengers on their way to work. Home. Anywhere but here. The red-head in frizzy braids and sweatpants next to us conducted a loud private conversation on her phone. After hearing about her hangover aftermath at her third shift waitressing job due to five too many Red Bull and vodkas the previous evening, I was thankful that I had toasted my own bagel that morning. Newspapers whipped open. Used college textbooks were highlighted. Lipstick was applied. iPhone apps were downloaded. We watched the farm fields and small towns blur past us. And it was no time before we got there. We stepped outside and immediately looked up at the buildings, and the sun streaming through the few cotton ball clouds.
Our bitter rivals in all games athletic, their pride resting on their ketchup-less hotdogs and thick-crusted pizza, chewing gum and wind, gangsters and Oprah. Big buildings. Big airport. Big history. And all that jazz. Chicago. We spent the day 103 floors up, and under the sea before a sleepy, and quiet, ride home on the rails.
Chicago, Illinois
(Willis Tower Skydeck, Shedd Aquarium)
(Willis Tower Skydeck, Shedd Aquarium)
Aliza
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