I knew it was a waste of money, but I guess that’s just what young love does to you.

When you’re young and in love you spend gobs of money on things you would spend months

pondering over ten years later. My boyfriend was in Chicago for a music festival and I had spent

(in ten years my mind would say wasted) $500 on a plane ticket to go visit him. I had traveled by

myself once before, to Maine to see my grandma. The difference between this trip to Chicago

and my previous trip to Maine was that everything would be unfamiliar. I knew the Bangor

Airport like the back of my hand. I knew all the ins and outs, the quickest way to get to baggage

claim, and the best place to eat (granted there are only really 3 choices of places to eat). It just

felt familiar.

Flying into Chicago, I arrived at the O’Hare International Airport. After a smooth flight,

I entered the unfamiliar building with cautious eyes. As I gravitated out of my terminal toward

the busy hall my eyes widened- this was the second busiest airport in the entire world. I got on

the phone with Sam, my boyfriend, expressing to him my confusion (without hesitation). After

finally finding my way out of the labyrinth which was the airport I sat outside on a bench waiting

for Sam to pick me up. I hadn’t seen him for three weeks because he’d been in Minnesota and

Wisconsin visiting relatives. As I sat on the bench, I scanned all the faces I saw, everyone that

passed me and everyone as far away as I could see. Finally, I spotted him. Like some cheesy

romantic scene in a movie I ran to him, pushing everyone else out of my way, only he was in

focus, the world was in slow motion, and I jumped into his arms, squeezing him harder than ever

before. And even though in the cinematic scenes it usually ends in a make-out session, I just

gave him a peck because his dad was standing nearby.

Driving away from the airport I didn’t see anything special, the highway looked like any

other highway, the trees looked like any other trees, and the cars were virtually the same cars I

had seen on the way to the airport back home. But as we entered the city my eyes got wide all
over again. Maybe it was because it was just somewhere new, but in that moment, as I looked up

the tall skyscrapers and squinted when my eyes were hit by the sun, as I looked into the Corner

Bakery and could hear the persiflage coming from inside, and as I looked up and down Michigan

Avenue to see all the different faces I was truly amazed. Chicago was a beautiful city. As a

small-town girl, I tend to be awed by all cities, however, this was different. It was clean. Usually

in cities there is grime covering everything, but Chicago just seemed so clean. More importantly,

the people looked so friendly. Everyone was smiling. In a lot of cities people are taught to avoid

making eye contact with people they don’t know, but in Chicago the diverse people walking the

streets not only made eye contact, but showed a warm smile, as well.

Sam’s dad dropped us at Millennium Park; we slunked out of the air-conditioned car and

into the thick, hot air of the city. Somehow, it didn’t bother me though, I was more focused on

looking around at the people and at the buildings and up at the way the clouds move and down at

the pigeons waddling around on the sidewalk. Sam and I joined hands and walked through the

paths of Millennium Park. There were sculptures everywhere; it amazed me how much art was a

part of the city’s community. We passed by an outdoor concert area- anywhere else it would be

just a stage and grass, but this venue was beautifully constructed. Formally named the Jay

Pritzker Pavilion, the stage was framed with billowing headdress of steel panels. The stage

looked like it was popping out of a cracking piece of ice. The grassy area made for listeners was

overseen by crisscrossing steel rods that connected back to the steel panels on the stage. I had

never seen anything like it. The fact that someone could take such an ordinary object and turn it

into a work of art was truly awesome.

We continued our walk and talked about generic things. I was still looking around at all

the friendly people and admiring how clean everything was. Sam wanted to take me to the

famous Bean so I could do some photography.

 “It’s amazing how a shiny object can attract so many people,” he cynically noted.

The way the city mirrored off of the structure was something that I couldn’t take my eyes

off of. I snapped a picture and then looked down at it. In the square frame the city skyline

showed on the left, to the right of it was the distorted view of the same city skyline. The

buildings were squished to an eighth of their size and the people on the sidewalk looked like

giants. I stepped back, he was right. Why are so many people attracted to this one shiny object?

We walked underneath the Bean and looked up. It was like vertigo; the way the metal reflected,

it was like there were 100 of everyone standing around us. I craned my neck to the side and

looked out from under the arch of the Bean. There was an Indian family with the women all

dressed in saris, taking their picture in the reflections. To the left of them was an Asian group of

teenagers laughing and pointing at the distorted image of them. And when Sam and I walked out

from under the Bean, I turned around and looked at us. I got just as much joy as everyone else-

just from this one big shiny object.

Even though the Bean had held my attention and caused my eyes to widen with

amazement, our next attraction was even better. The Crown Fountain, since my venture to

Chicago, had become my favorite spot in the world. It’s more comfortable than my favorite

chair, more joyful than my grandmother’s dining room at Thanksgiving, and even more alluring

than the clean white modern kitchen I’m currently sitting in. The Crown Fountain is made up of

two glass brick towers and a black granite reflecting pool. The glass brick towers display faces of

all types of people, with water pouring from over the top of the tower. At the person’s mouth

there is a spout of water, and periodically water sprays out of the spout, making it look as if the

person is spitting. In the hot Chicago sun, I slowed my walk as I neared the fountain. It wasn’t

graceful or elegant, in fact it was hard and geometric, but it was beautiful. I stood on the edge of

the enclosed area, where the sidewalk met the black granite, and Sam held out his arms toward
the structure. I smiled the biggest smile, the classic ear-to-ear smile, and brought my camera to

my eye. I peered through the lens of my camera and saw children splashing in the water, I

snapped a picture. I turned to a different angle and saw parents laughing a genuine laughter, I

snapped another picture. I turned around, still with the camera up to my eye, and saw Sam

looking at me with confusion. I brought the camera down and explained, “I’ve never seen

anything like this before.”

It was true. I had never witnessed such a strong sense of community or such an

overwhelming feeling of joy. A black woman stood ankle deep in the reflecting pool with her

jeans rolled up, she held the hand of her son, who was sitting waist deep in the water. The boy,

too small to talk, kicked his feet and splashed water into his mother’s face. She laughed and

smiled, not mad with her son at all. A blonde girl in a pink bathing suit played with the water that

was falling aimlessly from above her. She ran and grabbed her mother’s hand and led her into the

water. Her mom stood under the dropping water, holding her hands out to catch it. She smiled

and blinked when the water hit her forehead, however, she did not cringe when her freshly

washed shirt got wet as well. I had never witnessed such a joyous place.

After setting down my camera, I walked over to the dropping water. Sam grabbed hold of

my hand and we stepped under the waterfall. I felt the cool droplets of water touch my face and

run down my neck, it was refreshing compared to the hot air that hung around me. My shirt

clung to my sides with wetness and my shoes squished under my feet. I was one of those people,

who were too filled with joy to be angry or upset over the fact that my clothes would be

uncomfortable to wear or that my hair wouldn’t look so pretty anymore. I left the water, still

holding hands with Sam, he more wet than I. I smiled a big smile, the classic ear-to-ear smile,

and looked around. This city was truly amazing. In no other city would anyone be able to see a

hundred people, playing in a public fountain, all happy as can be.

 In my seat on the plane, I stared out the window into the lit skyline of Chicago. No longer

being able to see the individual people, but still I saw the interactions, the happiness, and the

sense of brotherhood (maybe Philly isn’t really the city of brotherly love…?). I meant for my trip

to be about my independence and finding out more about myself, but really what I found out

about was the cooperation and synergy of the city of Chicago.