EMPTY AMERICA: Chicago

I wanted to get in and out of downtown Chicago before dark. On it’s best of days, it can still be a source of consternation and crime. Don’t get me wrong, I love the city. I just don’t want to see it pushed to it’s limits and I don’t want to be in the middle of it. 


I pulled into downtown to park and the desperation was already apparent. Panhandlers were plentiful and I, as one of only a few non-panhandlers, felt like a target. How do you beg for money and food when there’s no one around to give you money or food? I wasn’t so much afraid as I felt guilty.


The Bean is the giant reflective work of art that’s a highlight of Millennium Park in the Loop of Chicago. I’ve never seen it when it wasn’t surrounded by hopeful Instagrammers. I had to see it unobstructed. And it was.


Well, it was unobstructed by photographers. Instead, it was obstructed by fencing. Iron crowd control fencing and “Covid-19” signs circled the whole park. Los Angeles had dealt with park over-crowding by saying the parks were closed. Chicago literally closed it.


Grant Park was wide open but wide empty. The Riverwalk not only had all of it’s riverside cafes and bars shut down, but there were no boats to be seen, all sheltered in water garages and docks, covered up, collecting dew. Security patrolled the Riverwalk. Again, Chicago fencing prevented one from even descending the steps to take a stroll.


This is one of the busiest cities I’ve ever been in, day or night. Now it was quiet. It would lull you into silent awe then rattle you awake when the mostly empty L train would bang over-head.


Along Magnificent Mile, the shopping hub of downtown Chicago, I saw for the first time boarded up stores by the dozens. Nothing was open. Furthermore, it was boarded up, which only added to the sense of fear that “desperate times” might bring. The whole of Michigan Ave. looked like they were preparing for the worst. You really get a gut-punch when you see the Disney Store, the “Happiest Store on Earth,” encased in speedily drilled in plywood.


Around the corner from Magnificent Mile is one of Chicago’s busiest hospitals. I didn’t see any ambulances rushing in or out today, but the street parking was blocked off prepping for a heavy work-load and clearing the area in anticipation of the worst of the emergencies.


Chicago was recently deemed a coronavirus “hot spot” and they were prepping for it.


I grabbed a Gino’s East deep-dish to go (where you would order, then leave, then they would set the pizza down on a table, retreat to the back, and you would grab the pizza off the table so everyone remained at least 6 feet apart) and headed out of the city. I took Clark St up by Wiener Circle, the liveliest, rowdiest hot dog stand you will ever see, and marveled how this party drinking area had relegated the drinkers to being home-drunks.


I settled in Kenosha just north of the city.


I got a text from a friend in Chicago. “Good thing you didn’t stay. They officially just locked down the city.”


I felt I was racing against time and the virus. Not sure where the finish line was.