I had been driving since 3:30, so it was no wonder I hadn’t notices the blinking red lights in the distance before I was driving amongst them. A wind farm! The blinking lights were all windmills. The flat plains of Indiana offered monotonous beauty – the promise of simplicity and sameness. Not my mountains, steep and jagged, from 5 hours prior, nor the rolling hills of northern Kentucky and southern Ohio, reflecting in my rearview only 2 hours before.
I was looking forward to a weekend visiting my best friend in her relatively new home, Chicago, so my mind was on the possibilities of the weekend ahead – I figured we would walk a lot, might try to see Hamilton (long-shot), and I was sure to enjoy a lot of good and expensive food and drinks. I was sure to enjoy the company of someone who is more sister than friend, thanks to essentially a lifelong friendship. City living doesn’t hold quite the same appeal it once did for me. Don’t get me wrong, I like to visit, but long-term stay doesn’t overwhelmingly call to me anymore. I feel like an old woman. But the thought of visiting people I love that live in cities ALWAYS gets me excited.
I was listening to John Legend, came around a steep inclined, grassy area and there it was – the Chicago skyline. The last time I was seeing this view, I was in middle school and was probably listening to Aly and AJ or A-Teens or something else that screams teenage angst and emotionality. Simpler times? Perhaps. But as I slowed to match the growing traffic (at 11 PM, mind you), I took a look at the city and felt immensely aware of the possibilities surrounding me. The Sear’s tower, as it was formerly called back in the early 2000’s during my last visit, was lit a bright green to welcome all the St. Patty’s partiers that would soon flood it’s streets to get a view of the festively colored green river that flows through downtown.
I looked up into the buildings and hoped for an exciting weekend, maybe even something funny for a blog, as music steadily offered a soundtrack for my wonderment. Be careful what you wish for.
Emily had to meet me on the street so we could hunt for parking. That meant the hug had to wait, but we chatted about the crazy drive up while we went on a hunt. Finally, we found a spot that naturally involved parallel parking. She and I both were happily surprised I was able to park without hitting the cars around me (the next morning, she had to take over, as I gave up trying after attempt number 3). We walked through the brisk night, and both recognized that this coldness was only a taste of what tomorrow would bring. Hey, at least it would be sunny!
We woke up and got ready, occasionally doting their cat, Kitty Wap (named after a rapper who also only has one eye) with lots of affection and attention. I was still mildly, not seriously, annoyed that Emily woke me up at 7:45, but was excited to get going anyways. We wrapped up in a couple layers, grabbed gloves, and I double- checked my purse for my wallet, chap stick, and my sunglasses. We were ready for a day in downtown.
First, we ate a nice brunch spot. The meal was fresh and delicious. I was dreading returning to the bitter wind, as my thighs and face had finally thawed. She showed me around her neighborhood, which, to my delight, was covered with graffiti art and murals. We visited a nice second-hand store and a crazy cool bookstore. We looked into cases of antique books, she asked the clerk if they had an old copy of “To Kill a Mockingbird,” since I am trying to get my hands on one. When that plan failed, I told her how I thought I’d meet my future husband in a bookshop like that, which she agreed to with a laugh as we walked back into the street empty handed.
Now for donuts and a trip on the L into downtown. Public transportation might be my favorite part of city visiting. I like to look at all the faces on the train and create their stories. He is a CEO. She is an artist, currently working on a piece that will catapult her to fame. They are best friends since they were 12, now happily married for 50 years. He is a student, going to his second job. You get the picture. None of my guesses are correct, probably, but it begs the question “hey, Emily, have you ever wondered about all the people there are?”
We hopped off the train and walked past more faces and places to eat. We visited target. (Can you ever NOT go into a Target)? And then we got to a place that made nostalgia overflow. Millennium Park, AKA the park with the big mirrored bean. If you’ve ever seen a picture of Chicago, you probably know what I’m talking about.
If not, here’s a picture.
Anyways, back in middle school, Emily and I visited this same park and posed for basically the same pictures. The differences between the pictures, and the people in the pictures, is vast enough to make your head spin: Hollister to Loft clothing, tennis shoes to stylish little booties, pony tails and braids to curls and windswept bobs. We look older, and the realization of the changes we’ve endured in the years since Middle School made my eyes sting. “At least the person I’m standing next to is the same best friend,” I thought as I took a last look at the most touristy destination in the city.
“Can you believe that you live here now?” I murmured as we headed to the kid section of the park (to get on the swings, Emily informed me giddily).
We hopped on the nest swings, found the glove she had dropped on the footpath (a miracle and an ironic moment of foreshadowing, as it seems in retrospect…), and continued the foot tour. Next stop: a mile of shopping and the second tallest building to check out the views. We got a table at the bar, and looked around the room. There weren’t walls, per se, but rather windows. No smart architect would wall up that kind of view. The lake looked like the Caribbean waters, and the other buildings glistened in the bright sunshine. We played the game again that I had played on the train: the table beside us was full of lawyers and their young wives, the mom and dad sitting along the furthest window had to be visiting their son or daughter at college, etc.
Down, down, down, and we headed to the movies where we left in an attempt to see if there were any “Hamilton” tickets left. I was trying really, really desperately to NOT get my hopes up. I knew, deep down, we probably wouldn’t get any, but when we got there and I saw the crowd, I wanted to go in SO BAD (Emily wasn’t as familiar with the musical, so I don’t think she could empathize with me, but she was being such a good sport to at least try for me)! In the end, we didn’t get tickets, but we were both excited to hang out with another one of her friends.
Emily wanted to show me a cool bar, first – one that was hidden away, but not the least bit unknown. Standing room only, in a tikki bar paradise that made it fun and easy to imagine she and I were on a tropical get away like our parents are, currently, sailing around the Caribbean. We had one drink to send pictures of “our vacation,” though ironic, to our parents as a joke, and then we literally ran down the street to meet her friend.
After we got some food in us, we started digging for wallets to pay for the dinner. When I saw that my purse was open, I knew, with that stomach-dropping instinct, that my wallet was gone. Due to a couple purchases during the day, my purse had been full, so I was so careful all day to zip the purse fully, as well as push my cute little Kate Spade wallet down to the side. Alas, in the run from the tikki bar, my wallet must have fallen out on the sidewalk.
It was gone, and I knew it in the pit of my stomach. I began calling credit card companies to put hold and blocks on everything. I stood outside the restaurant, in the below freezing wind, to make the calls, luckily dealing with the kindest and most helpful representatives who listened to a narrative I would not even buy: “Well, my wallet is gone, but my credit card is actually with my dad’s account, but my parents are on a cruise and out of the country, which means we can’t block the whole account because they have to be able to use it! OH, and my sisters have to have theirs too! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry…”
Finally, it was settled, and I slumped back into the restaurant, totally defeated and emotionally exhausted. How had the weekend, which held so much promise, gone from fun to total panic mode and inconvenience? And what now?
Emily was golden. She stood up to the grumpy bouncers to get back into that tikki bar, looked all over the floor, and then comforted me when she knew I was disappointed and nervous. We discussed plans for tomorrow, as I would not be able to hang out with her – they would be celebrating St. Patrick’s Day by going to bars and hanging out down town – I couldn’t get into the bars, and couldn’t buy a drink even if I got in. There was no point.
“I guess I’ll just go home. Can you give me gas money?”
Emily assured me that she would make sure I had plenty to get home, but I still went to sleep feeling uneasy. You see, I hate to feel like a burden. I hate to feel like I make someone else’s life more difficult. This trip was supposed to be a comfort to Emily, who is currently grappling with the end of a relationship. I was supposed to help and encourage her. I was not supposed to make the weekend stressful. And yet.
I went to sleep, and woke up to Emily sharing her “plan” for the day. Still groggy with sleep and feeling discouraged, I listened patiently.
“We will grab some breakfast here, then we will go to my roommate’s boyfriend’s apartment downtown so you can meet everybody, then we can take pictures by the river, and then you’re going to see ‘Hamilton’ because I already bought you a ticket for your birthday. I’m sorry you can’t hang out with us today, but I hope you’ll have fun at the show.”
Stunned. That’s the only word to describe my initial reaction. Overwhelmed comes next, as I felt silent tears roll down my cheeks. Anxiety as I contemplated how much money she spent on ME. Guilt as I considered the change of plans that can’t ever be considered convenient, and as I considered the fact that something like losing a wallet was my “fault.” Finally, I arrived to excitement, mixed with a mild case of that anxiety I felt, knowing how much those tickets cost. But I was going to see “Hamilton,” so how could I be anything but grateful?
The morning went well, and I enjoyed peeking into Emily’s world. She is surrounded by vibrant and colorful friends who would kill for each other. There’s a lot of love in that apartment above the pizza parlor. I felt happiness for her, as I recognized the necessity of having people to lean on when life isn’t going your way. I was leaning on Emily, she would lean on her roommates and coworkers and me, even 8 hours away.
I went to “Hamilton.” Suffice it to say it was an experience I’ll never forget. I also won’t forget the love it took to make it happen, just like I won’t forget the situational irony that isn’t lost to me – I wanted to see “Hamilton” so badly, but never considered the series of unfortunate events necessary to make it happen. Funny how life works out, isn’t it?
One of my vices is my stubbornness. Once I make a plan, I follow it through. So, once all of the weekend plans were altered, I left after the show straight for Inez. I had two possible stopping points for the night if I felt too tired, but somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I was getting all the way back to Kentucky or I would be bummed.
An hour outside of Indianapolis, I stopped for dinner. There was a message on my Facebook page waiting for me that read: “I believe you lost your wallet? Do you want me to send it to your address?” The message came from a total stranger, and I almost fell on the floor.
I pessimistically believe in a narrative that paints the majority of strangers as inherently slimy and untrustworthy when I’m in a stressful situation. This image, when shattered, offers an abundance of hope. This guy found a wallet and wanted to “pay it forward” as someone had previously offered the same help when he lost his wallet. Now, hopefully, I will have the wallet within a couple days.
I loved this weekend. As I drove through those blinking red lights, bright moon against an ombré, hazy sky, I couldn’t help but feel an immense amount of love. I had answers I never knew I would get, had witnessed musical genius, and had witnessed reminders of the love people contain. Emily’s latest tattoo reads “I contain multitudes,” which until this weekend I never understood as well as I feel like I now understand.
To contain multitudes is to believe in all circumstances and all emotions and beliefs. “Multitudes” has to refer to the human experience: each of us has the capacity to feel sorrow after losing love, while simultaneously contain love and belief in people nonetheless. Forgiveness, hope, excitement, fear, disgust, surprise, disbelief all fit within the frame of my best friend, wearing a bright green tee and metallic wedges.
Look at her, know she contains all these emotions and more. But, to be fair, I think I was reminded this weekend that I also contain multitudes. The roller coaster of emotions I felt this weekend is proof of that. As are the people I met, and relied on, during a stressful situation.
Christie, at the restaurant who bought me a ginger ale once, after striking up a conversation, she realized I was struggling. She found out I was a teacher and told me how much her son loved his teachers.
Caleb who found my wallet, and reached out to send it back to me. “Pay it forward,” he had said. How can I “pay it forward,” also?
Emily’s mom, who offered her house in case I was tired on my way home. A second mother.
My mom and dad for reminding me of the right people to call to make sure I’m financially secure.
The woman, and her daughter, next to me in “Hamilton,” who provided sweet conversation. The daughter and I were ALL SMILES, the ENTIRE PLAY.
Emily, who bought that ticket to cheer me up. Emily, who has always exuded such poise and style and sense of generosity as long as I’ve known her. Emily, who, like me, will be okay no matter what life throws at her due to the love that surrounds her and fills her.
I felt loved this weekend. I was reflecting on these realizations as I reenacted “Hamilton” in my car to stay awake. I was alternating between broadway singing and shoving my hand out the window in the frigid night, placing that cooled and numbed hand at the nape of my neck – an immediate shock to wake the system that was screaming to quit driving.
I looked out of the open window into the cloudy night and felt content, even knowing how exhausted I felt. “I contain multitudes” held a double meaning looking into the cloudy night, remembering the bright Kentucky stars that twinkled beyond them. The multitudes. The innumerable human experiences we find ourselves immersed in, in a lifetime, is enough to feel overwhelming. The sheer magnitude of the human condition, however, is also an astounding reminder that no matter how many wallets you lose, how many relationships end, or how many weekends don’t go as planned, each of us can look within ourselves, and those that surround us, to find the answers we are seeking, to find the excitement that often doesn’t conform to any category or plan, and to find hope in the midst of tragedy, inconvenience and heartbreak.
haliewanders 