Evening blush hour
When you’re new to a place, things that might seem normal to most people, appear amazing and eye-popping to you. I’m that way with Chicago traffic. I’ve been living here for nearly three years now but I still can’t get over the traffic. It’s constant. And slow. Except when it’s breakneck and survival of the fastest. Quiet drives are for people who live in Ohio. A drive here is as relaxing as a root canal.
I took the “long-cut” home from my final assignment of the day last night. “Long-cut” is the term I use for doing anything humanly possible to avoid driving on highways, which mimic parking lots around here. As I passed over the Eisenhower Expressway — and I use the word “express” loosely — I noticed hundreds of headlights dotting the highway as the setting sun burnt orange in the sky behind them. I immediately thought as I let out an evil laugh, “Poor suckers!”. Then I realized they probably had no idea what a beautiful sight they were missing out on right behind them!
So I pulled over and shot some photos. Maybe they visit my blog. I waited for a train to enter the frame at left before feeling like I had something at least vaguely interesting. Then I watched the sun fade away, soaked in one last deep breath of exhaust-filled air pollution and headed back for my own little four-wheel torture mobile. I’ll file this one away. Another addition to my on-going project about traffic jams in Chicagoland. I’ll let you know where you can buy a copy of the book.