|Posted on September 22, 2019 at 5:50 PM|
Friday I went to a lecture on publishing at TechNexus, a nifty collaborative space within the Civic Opera House. As usual, I was running late. I hustled east down Randolph as GoogleMaps instructed, only to find myself at a corner devoid of street signs, the massive buildings broadcasting no addresses. (This is typical, unfortunately.)
In my defense, Wacker is the most infuriating street on earth. It must have gotten its undergrad at Peachtree College in Atlanta and received a masters from Screw U. in Boston, because it not only extends in all four directions, but has an upper and lower level.
I asked a pedestrian for help; turns out I was headed in the exact opposite direction. She must have smelt the stank of frustration and tardiness on me, because she slooooowed her words and spoke...very...pointedly...as though she were dealing with a directionally challenged moron.
Don't you hate when people are right?
(I made it in plenty of time though, thanks to her.)
The City is near-dead after 8pm. Trying to find a restaurant still serving is a challenge. I ended up at South Branch, with a view of the river and skyline. I spent the next few hours at a table lit by skyscrapers' windows, eating overpriced seafood and an Erlenmeyer flask(!!) or two of wine.
Perhaps the Flying Spaghetti Monster was dropping a hint with my inability to connect to the internet, but it was the perfect atmosphere to write. So that's what I did. MS#2 has officially begun.
(right photo stolen from Wedding Wire)