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We left Warsaw behind today. I don’t how long we were stranded there and there is no way to calculate the many years that must have passed, but I was sad to see it go. We took the most expensive taxi that I have ever taken to avoid having to put Phoebe through two flights and a ridiculously early start to get to New York. And it also meant we had a little time to kill in Chicago. Civilisation. And some food not principally made out of sugar.
On the other hand no school playgrounds covered in crosses of aborted foetuses. Though we passed that field after we delivered our car back to the rental place and it was nice to see the crosses gone and the field full of non-aborted foetuses (now grown into child form) playing on the imaginary graves of some people who never existed. Life and death and those caught in between.
On arrival in Chicago, marvelling at the beautiful skyscrapers towering above us we were greeted with the sound of roaring aeroplane engines above us, much too close to the city. Which led to the inevitable thought that something horrible was about to occur. The engines screamed and boomed, but nothing blew up. We still wondered what was going on and saw two fighter planes chasing each other over the city and out over Lake Michigan. Only later did we find out that there is some kind of air show going on in the city this week. Though it’s hard to work out who could be enjoying this. We know enough about airshows to realise that they probably shouldn’t take place over a city.
We got to see the Bean (a big silver reflective bean-shaped sculpture) in the centre of the city, not far from the Trump hotel (emblazoned with the name of the final US President). How future archaeologists will assume we loved him.
The Bean was fun though. Not as much fun as a man staring at Abraham Lincoln’s hat, but what could be. But you can’t see a reflection of yourself in Abraham Lincoln. That’s what I’ve always said. And I have always been right. Until they make a sex robot of him.
And when I say they, I mean I.
Phoebe quite liked the Bean (she loves her own reflection) but she preferred a small dirty puddle up by the outdoor arena. She stomped around in it gleefully. Anyone who says Peppa Pig isn’t corrupting our youngsters is an idiot.
We also went up to the top of a building that looked like Batman might not-so-secretly live in it and got to look round the city from on high. Phoebe wasn’t too impressed with the view, but she did love a bit of the wall by the window that went up diagonally and which she could climb and use as a makeshift slide. We all get different things out of the experience.
Chicago has a lovely vibe for a big city and looked beautiful from above. Though it won’t look so good when Trump takes over and has his name spelled out across the city by demolishing the existing buildings and redesigning everything into Ts Rs Us Ms Ps and Ss.
Spending time in a small town made the big city seem impossibly glamorous. I had forgotten that I had once lived in a city myself.
The RHLSTP with Matthew Crosby is now up in all the usual places
