It is a fact universally acknowledged that I am completely bereft of a sense of direction. Instead, I rely on a well-established route to and from work, and do my very best to keep the leisurely meandering to a minimum.
But whether it was the fresh air, or the Christmas promise just hanging in the air, I thought I'd take a different route to the cinema last night for the final film in the Marilyn Monroe festival.
I walked and I walked, and I ended up somewhere near Pennsylvania. Or perhpas it was Transylvania. Out that side of town it was hard to tell the difference.
But the weirdest thing is that they say Chicago is a lot like Adelaide in terms of layout. ["They" being those people with a much better sense of direction than me; i.e everybody]. The streets are allegedly built on a grid and, with the exception of a couple of rogue streets that have the audacity to curve around corners, Downtown Chicago is meant to be one of the easiest places to navigate. So how, I ask you, did I get it so wrong?
Maps and compasses are useless to me, so I didn't stop and consult my little flip-out street directory. And I have it on good authority that looking like you're lost makes you a perfect target for muggers and rapists. And I didn't feel like attracting anyone last night, much less those local undesireables. So I followed the crowd and walked back in the direction of Michigan Avenue, because I knew the direction that was, I just wasn't certain how many blocks it would be before I found it. I figured that if I could find my way to Michigan Avenue before my legs froze off, I would forgo the movies and just jump the first bus home.
But just as I started to feel like Alice in Wonderland, I had a revelation. Somewhere between Nowheresville and No-name Street, I crossed State Street - the very boulevard I had been looking for all along. So I turned down State Street (or did I turn up it?) and kept walking confidently and purposefully, in what I hoped was the direction of the cinema. Just as I was about to give up, I saw the twinkling lights of Marshall Fields, that much-loved bastion of consumerism here in Chicago. I am sure I would have wept with relief, had not the cold wind frozen the water in my eye sockets.
So I sought refuge in the warmth of the cinema, and took comfort in a large popcorn and even larger coffee. There is just something nice about sitting down with these refreshments, having the cinema lights dim immediately, and enjoying the "20th Century Fox" music as the film begins. It was almost like the cinema had been waiting just for me to arrive.
And while the movie wasn't as great as I'd hoped it would be, I had a great night out and was pleased to leave the cinema and resume my well-established route home, arriving safe and sound (and sure of my geograpical position) about 30 minutes later.
But whether it was the fresh air, or the Christmas promise just hanging in the air, I thought I'd take a different route to the cinema last night for the final film in the Marilyn Monroe festival.
I walked and I walked, and I ended up somewhere near Pennsylvania. Or perhpas it was Transylvania. Out that side of town it was hard to tell the difference.
But the weirdest thing is that they say Chicago is a lot like Adelaide in terms of layout. ["They" being those people with a much better sense of direction than me; i.e everybody]. The streets are allegedly built on a grid and, with the exception of a couple of rogue streets that have the audacity to curve around corners, Downtown Chicago is meant to be one of the easiest places to navigate. So how, I ask you, did I get it so wrong?
Maps and compasses are useless to me, so I didn't stop and consult my little flip-out street directory. And I have it on good authority that looking like you're lost makes you a perfect target for muggers and rapists. And I didn't feel like attracting anyone last night, much less those local undesireables. So I followed the crowd and walked back in the direction of Michigan Avenue, because I knew the direction that was, I just wasn't certain how many blocks it would be before I found it. I figured that if I could find my way to Michigan Avenue before my legs froze off, I would forgo the movies and just jump the first bus home.
But just as I started to feel like Alice in Wonderland, I had a revelation. Somewhere between Nowheresville and No-name Street, I crossed State Street - the very boulevard I had been looking for all along. So I turned down State Street (or did I turn up it?) and kept walking confidently and purposefully, in what I hoped was the direction of the cinema. Just as I was about to give up, I saw the twinkling lights of Marshall Fields, that much-loved bastion of consumerism here in Chicago. I am sure I would have wept with relief, had not the cold wind frozen the water in my eye sockets.
So I sought refuge in the warmth of the cinema, and took comfort in a large popcorn and even larger coffee. There is just something nice about sitting down with these refreshments, having the cinema lights dim immediately, and enjoying the "20th Century Fox" music as the film begins. It was almost like the cinema had been waiting just for me to arrive.
And while the movie wasn't as great as I'd hoped it would be, I had a great night out and was pleased to leave the cinema and resume my well-established route home, arriving safe and sound (and sure of my geograpical position) about 30 minutes later.
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