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the allure of the city

I fell in love with Chicago before I arrived. I bemused myself with the anticipation of arriving, seeing the City, my first Big City, I thought. On the bus, that’s how I said to myself. Then I remembered — I live in Kansas City. Oh, but that’s no Chicago, I said. But what about St. Louis? I had been there. Still, that’s no Chicago.

There was just something about Chicago. The media, maybe. The fact that it was a tourist destination. Who came to Kansas City for fun? I actually missed the Chicago skyline on the way there. But once we had driven in, I saw all the streets and signs and lights and people and cars. Oh my. I was afraid, as I was about to step off the bus, that I was going to a city where I knew one person out of thousands — millions? — and where I had been warned of pick pockets and murderers. But here I was, a lost Kansas girl. 

I fell in love with Chicago when I saw it. The buildings were so tall — I wanted to know the purpose of every one. Which companies occupied what — is that a hotel? Who works on top of the Chick-Fil-A? The ground level of the city felt so commercialized and typical. There were no shops I’d never seen before. I yearned for Authentic Chicago. I wanted deep dish pizza, or some reminder — other than the skyscrapers above me — that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. The most I felt that was at the Chicago Tribune tower, and again on the riverfront, just admiring downtown from afar.

The architecture was beautiful. The skyline was perfect. The buildings gleamed, sparkled, made you notice them. Oddly enough, it felt like Oz, says the girl from Kansas.

So on a shallow level, I love Chicago. It’s beautiful, but I can only say I love it shallowly because of its shallowness. Catering to tourists, selling everything that sells, conforming to capitalism. Kansas City is authentic. And familiar. And complex. There’s the Plaza, where shopping happens, but it feels different. More alive. With more character. I had a hard time finding the character in ground-level Chicago.