Loving wandering around Chicago without any real plan or purpose, ducking into interesting places, choosing where to have lunch based more on proximity and provision of warm shelter than reputation (not being Popeye’s is also a qualifier), and trying not to look creepy while people-watching.

There’s so much sensation walking through a metropolitan city. Pretty girls and prettier women. A gays-be-damned street preacher amplified by a karaoke machine is scored by Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer on saxophone across the street. Plastic bucket percussionists, giant Christmas trees, fire trucks, sirens, the clack and rumble of the subway, Santa taking a smoke break …and that’s just one block.

I’m doing my best to blend in, shrouded under my Spiewak coat and Chrome bag, only momentarily exposing my suburban Texan by fumbling my train pass with an unpracticed hand more accustomed to turning a key in unshared space.