Holiday Weekend

After work on Friday, I caught the train to Chicago for the long weekend. As I suspected, I was not the only one with this idea as the train was completely sold out. A good number of Cardinals fans from St. Louis as well as Blackhawks fans from all over were aboard, headed into the city for a weekend of sports mania. Other than a few interesting drunken outbursts by a couple of them, it was a pretty standard journey.

Normally Canal Street is lined with taxis just waiting for people to spill out of Union Station and into their waiting back seats. Not so after 9 p.m. I, along with several other people, had to stand on the curb, arms outstretched, waiting for one of the dozens of taxis driving by to stop. As dumb as it sounds, I enjoyed it. That is one little slice of urban living I never get to experience in daily life. 

After checking into the hotel, ordering room service and unpacking, I enjoyed a quiet night of reading and thinking. I slept pretty well, if not long enough. I woke in darkness and sat for hours on the chaise lounge in front of the window, watching Chicago wake up. Everything was shrouded in dark shadows and blankets of gray and then as the sun rose, color was painted onto everything in vibrant hues. I love Chicago in the morning.

I spent the morning reading and writing and then headed just across the river to see the Memorial Day Parade. The weather could not have been more perfect. The sun was bright and only too warm if you had to stand in it for quite a while. I found a great parade-watching spot at the corner of State and Lake, the parade's starting point, which gave me the opportunity to alternate standing in the sun and under the El tracks to cool down. 

The parade was an amazing two hours of emotions. The number of veterans and young recruits, heroes of yesterday and today, surrounded and serenaded by dozens of marching bands playing military hymns was humbling. People on the sidelines watched and cheered, waved flags and shouted greetings, swollen with pride and patriotism. It was a fleeting moment of unity in an otherwise disparate world. I hope to experience it again.

Sunday was a day of reflection and soul-searching and writing. Fortunately, just when I was feeling completely bogged down in the mire of uncertainty and questioning that plagues times like those, I was due to arrive at the theater for a matinee of The 39 Steps. It was exactly what I needed. Completely entertaining, engrossing and engaging, it was a comical, lighthearted spoof that showcased everything magical about live performances. I left impressed and feeling more positive than I had all day.

When Monday morning came, I was not ready to come home because I never feel more at home than I do in Chicago. But normal life must be dealt with and I made my way to the station to catch the first train back. The car was nearly half-empty that early in the morning. To keep my mind busy and away from thoughts of the last time I traveled home on that train I daydreamed of the next time I could visit Chicago. I am already anxious to return. But isn't that how we all feel about home? 

Opening Up

I had a dream about riding a train the other night and it was not too hard to figure out that it was the train I will be taking to Chicago in just a few weeks. In the dream, I had found a seat, remarkably in a quiet, uncrowded area of the train, and was sitting alone, deeply engrossed in a book before we left the station.

Before long we had arrived at the first stop on the route. A woman boarded and sat beside me. I was irritated because there were plenty of other open seats and I did not want to be disturbed. She did not seem to notice and just smiled and began to talk to me. I answered her questions curtly, shifted my body to face the window and went back to my book. 

At the next station, a man boarded, sat directly across from me (in one of those horrible backward-facing seats that make me feel sick) and he, too, wanted to talk. Now, I had both of them asking me questions, talking with each other and to me, and I could no longer concentrate on my book, let alone ignore them. 

I put away the book, straightened myself in my seat and began to take an interest in their conversation. Soon I found myself drawn to these people, interested in their stories and wanting to get to know them better. We were laughing and chatting when the train made the next stop and a couple boarded. They were drawn to our little group and joined in our conversation as though we had all been pals for life.

This continued throughout the journey into the city. The train made stop after stop and at each one, someone even more interesting and colorful and vibrant joined our group. We were all fast friends by the time the train pulled into Union Station and we quickly decided to spend most of the weekend together, shopping, dining out, and sightseeing. 

I woke with a positive feeling about the dream, though in real life, I probably would have felt awkward and shy around so many strangers. I laid in bed for quite a while thinking about it and I think it was telling me to be more open to new people and new situations. I have a tendency to shut down and shut out the world when I am anxious, angry or uncertain. The dream reminded me that trying something new and giving others a chance may be exactly what I need and could, in the end, make me happy. 

I am looking forward to finding opportunities to 'put away my book and join in the conversation' around me. And, I am really looking forward to boarding that train.