the ocean

Weird Science

 

Chicago is a truly weird city, full of deeply weird people who engage in zealously weird conduct on a regular basis. I am well aware of this; in fact, I rather enjoy it. Well, I guess I should clarify that I may not contemporaneously enjoy, say, getting screamed at about sodomy by a guy with a mike attached to a boom box outside the Old Navy or getting reprimanded by a check-out clerk for my treatment of produce, I certainly enjoy it after the fact. These things are a lot more fun to describe than experience. But regardless, I have to wonder why Chicago always seems to be at its weirdest when my parents are in town. They are little old people from Quincy, IL, and ill equipped to deal with weirdness on this scale, I fear.

 

I am reminded of this today because my father stopped in town for lunch on his way to visit our relatives in Wisconsin, and it seemed that every half-crazed hobo, sassy public employee, and overly talkative food court employee conspired to put on as much of a show as possible for him. A homeless person with a fake British accent accosted us on our way to lunch and offered to take us to his castle. A brassy female traffic cop screamed at us for straying but a few inches out of the official crosswalk area. And the cashier at the Macy’s food court seized this opportunity to explain to my father in the most explicit terms each of his many failings as an orderer of food. This was all within the scope of an hour; if he’d stayed for the day I fear we’d both be dead by now.

 

Of course, the best example of this phenomenon came when a vagrant spotted my mother outside the Chili Five Way in Lakeview and exclaimed “oh, don’t mess with this one, she got the crazy eye.” You know, when they’re right, they’re right.