Farewell Chicago
There’s a lot of real poor people in this neighbourhood,’ the shuttle driver says as a desperate woman with matted hair begs at our door. ‘Real poor and real lazy too’. I try not to catch the woman’s wild eyes. She’s filthy and open mouthed. Scabby and scratchy, she appears oblivious to the traffic.
‘Ah have three chillun, an mah husband was an al-co-hallic’ the shuttle driver tells me.
I’m sitting at a bar, watching an inaudible episode of something called ‘Amazing Race’, in which couples, flagged up as ‘the lesbians’, ‘dating models Brent and Caite’ and ‘cowboys Jet and Cord’ visit the champagne house Taittinger. It’s hard to tell, but the competition seems to involve making a tower of champagne glasses.
Sitting next to me is a man who has been kicked off the plane. ‘Yeah they threw us off’ he says to the barmaid. ‘Someone said they saw fire trucks go by.’
The barmaid allows me to plug in my computer. I order a bottle of beer. It’s 11.40 pm. The beer is delicious. Perhaps it will help me to sleep on the plane.
‘Excuse me, please could I have a Heineken’ I ask politely.
‘Another one? Another Heineken?’ she says loudly, causing the fire truck man to turn round and stare. Bang goes her tip, I think, in revenge.
The airport is full of instructions and announcements. ‘Wolfgang Puck’s food service available in the Bar Area’ a sign reads.
‘The lounge is located on level 2, all military personnel are welcome’ the tannoy booms.
‘Baby Killer yelled at Rep. Bart Stupak on House floor’ runs a headline – exotic to me. It is interrupted by a flurry of excitement:
‘Breaking News:
House approves changes to bill.’
My nose is drying up, and my lips are cracking from he air conditioning. My body feels heavy. Perhaps the second Heineken was a mistake. I remember the barmaid’s kindness over the computer and relent with her tip.
‘We are waiting for the president of the United States’ says the newsreader.
‘That’s right Wolf, we’re just waiting for the President to come out of the East Room’
As he arrives, boarding begins.
‘This is all about sleep so we’ll try and make that happen for ya’ they announce from the flight deck. And I do.
Crown Fountain by Jaume Plensa on snowy day near the Chicago Art Institute
Stunning image, Emma. Glad you’re home safe.
Sleeping on the plane is the best way to fly! Usually a rare thing for me but I passed out for the two-hour flight from Chicago to Austin (do you think too much fun, alcohol and conversation combined with too little sleep had anything to do with it?!). So glad you managed it, too. I miss you and everyone already…
Photo is a knock out and there is never a wrong time for Heineken.
Very interesting would like to know more about how the ceramic workshop went… why go on such a workshop if you do not like working with ceramics? Hopefully they loved them by the time you finished with them…##Keep up the good work Emma.
That’s my favorite beer too. The workshop was great but only wish it was two days. You did not disappoint. It was great fun meeting you. Exhausted I arrived home. Glad it was not only me that could not sleep.