Friday Afternoon Confessional: Sheridan
I confess that I am mildly obsessed with maps. It seems to have begun when I moved to Chicago and, after getting lost one too many times, decided that I would study maps of the city so that I would always know where I was. Chicago is very well-suited for such a pursuit because it is so systematically laid-out, at least in the inland area — aside from the diagonal streets, it’s all a grid.
The Girlfriend, however, lives near the lake, which is a completely different story. After a few weeks of visiting her (and therefore having her place always be the point of departure for wherever we went), I began to feel pretty confident about the configuration of the various streets, including the strange interweaving of Sheridan and Broadway. Something began to bother me, however: namely, Inner Lake Shore Drive. In some areas, the local service road closest to the lake is named something different, for instance Cornell in the Hyde Park area or Columbus near the Loop. On the north end, the local is inexplicably called Marine Drive. Yet strangely, the cut-off for it is not where Sheridan veers off (3900N), but Irving Park (4000N). I confess that this bothers me, as does the fact that Sheridan runs four blocks between Diversey and Belmont and then disappears until 3900N — why can’t the local just be called Sheridan? And then return to being called Inner Lake Shore Drive once Sheridan makes its turn inland (or Marine Drive, if they insist)? And why on earth do I care?
I confess that I’ve taken to watching whatever reruns of Mad Men they have on demand simply to have something in the background, but they quickly become the foreground. I confess that Pete’s secretary is amazing.
I confess that all this time in Kalamazoo, I didn’t realize that there was a nice, full-service grocery store less than a mile from my apartment. It’s a co-op with tons of organic stuff, which helps my righteousness level — and as a bonus, on the way home I helped a guy who was having trouble getting his wheelchair across the railroad tracks. Then there were these kids in a burning building yelling for help, but I figured I had done enough good for the day and anyway I really needed to get back home.
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