Lake Michigan Laps @ the Urban, the Indie

I get dropped off from pickup truck at a fill station east of Gary, Indiana. I pick up a copy of the Chicago Tribune to grab the lay of the land I'm about to enter. "Fallout of violence fills his school day" is the title of the most prominent article on the front page of the Metro section -- and linked from the most prominent article on the front page of the A section. Dawn Turner Trice's article leads with the subtitle: "Let's fight what fosters young toughs".


See, the weekend had been pretty rough on Chicago -- three dozen shootings were to leave nine people dead and up the number of SWAT teams and specialized police units sent out to the streets. As Arab-American playwrights gather to discuss their station as outsider artists, Sub Pop artist Iron and Wine brings his "quietly surging majestic" music to the Vic Theatre to the satisfaction of Chicago's alternative-folk crowd, and slam poets prepare for the evening's showcase at the Funky Buddha, the specter of violence hung, as usual, over all of our heads. There had been enough trouble over the last few days in Chicago's west end. And I didn't know it yet, but that's exactly where I was headed.

Back in September 2005, the Chicago Tribune had readers vote one what they considered the Seven Wonders of the city. Living in an extremely dense, and yet totally accessible metropolitan area with quality leisure options, the top three selections were as follows: 1. The Waterfront 2. Wrigley Field 3. The "L".
http://www-news.uchicago.edu/citations/05/050915.sevenwonders.html


I was deposited at the edge of the "L" Train's Blue Line by a corporate catering king from the suburbs, who skydives on the weekends. It took me awhile to figure out how to pay the fare (you can't just pay cash -- you have to get a ticket first), but I chatted up some underground electricians fascinated by my tales, and soon I was headed up the escalator.

But I can see why people consider the "L" such an iconic piece of Chicago -- it runs 24 hours, it costs $2 to get anywhere on the line, and you get a pretty rad view of the city the whole way along. It's the third busiest mass transit rail system in all of the US. They call it the "L" or the "EL" because of the fact that, except for the most downtown section, the whole track is elevated about a story up. You pass just feet from windows and trees and all sorts of buildings. And Chicago's urban centre is so built up, not just in the core, but pretty much all the way out to the suburbs -- a vision of intensification brought into fruition that no one really seems to mind. No wonder "L" ridership keeps on rising.



I talk to a couple 20-somethings on their way to work or home or somewhere else pretty pressing, one with rad glasses and aqua shoes, the other with a pretty gnarly beard, to get a sense of what's up. They tell me about the beauty of Wicker Park, the laid back beach scene, the city's baseball frenzy, and a little dive bar with free shows on Mondays they call the Empty Bottle.

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On the way to my buddie's place, riding the "L", I pass right by Wrigley Field. And something about it just looks so adorable -- nestled there among the brick apartment buildings poking their noses above the concrete and pavement, deep in the heart of the grid. Somehow it just totally fits -- not like the futuristic suburban superstructure of Toronto's SkyDome -- insulated by waterfront condos, a freeway, towering bank buildings -- like the one with gold plated windows, and now a corporate title. And even though I despise the reckless salaries of ballplayers, and I find the game boring, I was really drawn to the neighbourhood feel of Wrigley Field. Wrigleyville, I'm told, is an excellent place to party or pick up the girl next door. If you know what I mean.

So I drop off my pack and head down... where I want to go most... to Chicago's Waterfront. Why? Well, imagine you lived in a city that wanted to provide its citizens with a rad location to hang out downtown legally, while still being privy to an excellent view of urban movement -- skyscrapers, traffic flow, workers milling about, etc. And imagine your city is situated on the edge of a fantastic natural resource that could extend just the viewing pleasure alone all the way round to 360 degrees. Well. That city is Chicago. The natural resource is Lake Michigan. The location is the beach at the Waterfront.


So I end up drinking beers with some culinary students chilling out more in the sand. Behind us about 30 people are playing frisbee. The twilight gives the glistening downtown towers an iridescent glow. And we kick back and talk about places we've been and people we've met. It's that lazy urban feeling straight out of the eastern shores and deep blue waters in Requiem for a Dream -- except in Chicago. Something just feels so right watching the up to 3 foot waves roll in from the horizon line and break in sequence along the tightly packed sand. I wonder what the scene was like here last week after the earthquake shook the buildings downtown? Were the waves surfable? The one girl is reminded of her place out in Idaho I think, the simple countryside. The skinnier dude says he's always wanted to try hitchhiking but never knew it was possible. And I stick around even after they leave. I watch the deep blue waves transform into thick violet.

Having already seen the top three of Chicago's Seven Wonders, I knew it was time to head West. Further into urbania, for better or worse, richer or poorer. It was time to hit the Empty Bottle.

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Just like the guy on the subway platform rapping and melodizing for change with only a mic and a background track, the young punk I ran into in Subway out West down Division, reminded me or a young Usher or Nelly. The urban culture of R n' B and Soul isn't a put on around here. It's the real deal. Or, I guess I should say, "around HERRR" -- since that's actually how they'd say it. I think the guy said he was Puerto Rican. I'm not sure. All I know is that the wifebeater he was wearing really fit his style tight. Snap! He was surrounded by three of the cutest girls. One of the girls -- beautiful long reddish hair and all -- barely said a word. One was bubbly as hell, talking with rad ghetto spunk. And one of them -- the one they called Lil' Bit -- looked like a mini J. Lo. People in this area know well enough about the wrong side of a jail cell. And I know at least one of these kids has been locked up for gun offenses. The conversation floated in an out of relationship drama and various forms of drug use. You stand tough and might have to carry a piece. Because, once again, that's just how it is out here. That's how these kids know how to survive. They've hung tight now for years. The streets are so hard. You and your friends just have to be harder.

And Lil' Bit pulled her solid white glasses off the top of her head, as shiny as any nice new Audi or BMW, slowly lowered them over her eyes, and asked me what I though. I said, "Woah wo wo..."

And I asked her what she thought of my chill blue shades I picked up in Chinatown from that sweet vendor. She bobbed her head all chill n' shit, shrunk up a lil' bit like a kitten and said right back: "Woah wo wo..."

And i miss them like hell already. Believe it or not.


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The Empty Bottle was populated by indie kids looking to hear catchy experimental pop-rock on the cheep. I talked to one guy, a knowledge industry worker of Indian background I guessed. He was curious to hear what he could of Toronto. They don't get much news of those things down here. And I saw the clothing colours shift on the average to the archaic purples and pinks, the trendster palate of art-clash. Just like with the rap-heads, hats still came big billed here. But if you wore it here it would have less of a slick street vibe and more of the goofy intelligencia you might have a chance to rock. And a software designer told me he hated his job, mind numbing he said, but was glad he still had one.

Sub Pop really had their crew out working the city. Iron and Wine tickets were hard to come by, even at $23 a pop. So all us indie-kids were more than happy to fork over our 2 bucks a beer to check out labelmate Kelley Stoltz, a singer/songwriter extraordinare with a California-style David Duchovny je ne sais quois. Listen to song after song. This could lull you to sleep. But hey Kelley -- how about this... can you jerk us all into the now, the awakening sounds?


"You travel all up and down. Seeing all the sights, the darkest days, the brightest lights. Different cities and towns and the open road. Traveling all around. And maybe one day you break down. And after you prostitute yourself out for a few days to make a little cash. Before you come to your senses. And you'll pause to look, just to look back. To think about this song. Tonight. And remember you'll remember this moment. The night you danced with a stranger."

The flutter of swimming sounds is methodical and intoxicating. I'm holding a piece of cardboard and some underground magazines. I look up at a girl a little taller than me. She says, "Hey, would you like to dance."

I almost got robbed later. And I almost didn't have enough money to get on the subway to grab my stuff. And I'm pretty sure I either witnessed a stop-light robbery or a bizarre drug heist. But I didn't care. Because I had had a chance to dance in the flow Lake Michigan's urban waves.