You take your foot. You put it on the pedal. And you go.
Seriously, it shouldn’t be that tricky to figure out and yet almost every day, I find myself uttering those very words on the commute.
Foot. Pedal. Go.
Yes, I’m one of “those” Chicagoans – the ones who throw caution to the environmental wind in the name of my own sanity. In return, more often than not, I am punished with traffic thick enough to give myself a manicure in. This morning was no different. At first.
Running out of my courtyard – slightly earlier than my normal brand of late because of impending street cleaning and wondering if maybe the grey cardigan would’ve been a better match for my red maxi than the black one I opted for – I jumped in my car and quickly found myself in the mini parade that seems to hit Halsted every morning at that time. Weaving through the North Side, I managed to make it to the Drive where people were jamming things up in their attempts to properly merge. I change the radio station. Check my watch. And wonder what could possibly be causing the backup. There’s no rain. No snow. What in the world are people doing other than driving their car?
I ease into traffic (and by ease I mean floor it angrily) and watch the skyline come into view. That famous Chicago skyline. Strong, muscular skyscrapers flanked by a surprisingly sliver-blue Lake Michigan and an auntum hued Lincoln Park. It’s the most incredible skyline in the world if you ask me. It’s one of the things that brought me to Chicago from my Indiana home. And I’m apparently missing this view every day in my frenzied rush to get to work.
Traffic stops. Again. But this time, instead of honking at the BMW in front of me for not paying attention to the road, for possibly texting his buddy, I relax.
Work can wait a little longer. This view shouldn’t have to.
About the author: Deb Pahl (@debbles773) is considered creative at DDB Chicago and has a passion for shoes, wine and Christopher Meloni. Get in her head at her blog www.surlygirl-deb.blogspot.com