Dear Chicago Skyline,
Earlier this week I was driving down Clybourn right around Armitage… just made a stop at CVS and Barnes & Noble — you know, normal afternoon errands. Windows down, sunroof open. It’s one of those rare spring days when the sun is shining, the wind is warm and the sky is blue.
Got a little 99.5 FM playin’ — don’t judge, I’m a country music fiend. Jamming out and singing to myself, to the amusement of the guy in the car next to me (happy to entertain you, sir). And then I looked up, past the yellow light I was about to run through, to the stunning backdrop of my life, known as the Chicago skyline.
Damn, I love that view.
Whether you’re in Lincoln Park, Logan Square, Tri-Taylor or Ukrainian Village, there’s nothing like turning a corner to find the Sears* Tower and John Hancock waving at you from afar. There’s the red building, the needletop building and the caketop buidling (all names I have affectionately given to buildings whose real names I know but prefer not to use.)
I may or may not have developed a superiority complex as a child thanks to our city’s skyline. It’s just such an easy way to remind yourself of how f-ing lucky you are to live here. There’s something about seeing downtown Chicago from a distance that creates this weirdo magnetic attraction that pulls you back into the rhythm of the city.
Am I getting a bit to lovestruck? It’s ok — I’m done now. I’ve got an appointment to get to anyway… I’m getting the skyline tattooed on my ass.
*I refuse to call the Sears Tower by its new name, the Willis Tower. Chalk it up to being a true Chicagoan.