We asked: What’s “the most Chicago thing” that’s happened to you? Here’s a sampling of what you told us, lightly edited for clarity:
“I stood in front of a open hydrant and got blown down the street into an open sewer.”
— Richard Sierecki
“I saw Eddie Vedder in Wrigleyville Tap, and my brothers and I hung out and played pool with him for a few hours in 1997. He was in Chicago for the Tibetan Freedom Concert.”
— Brian McDonough
“I took a date to the Billy Goat, and she asked for fries.”
— Jonathan Justus
“I spent an hour digging out a parking spot in front of my apartment in a bad snowstorm and left a very small table as dibs.”
— Bridget Enright Kamal
“Jake and Elwood Blues walked into the Cook County building looking for the assessor’s office. The impersonators were from China and did a great job.”
— Terrence Camodeca
“I dropped my cell phone onto the CTA train tracks.”
— Richard Bartecki
“When I was 5, I went to Bozo’s circus. I had to go to the bathroom. During a commercial break, Mr. Ned let my father take me. We went behind the curtain, and there was Ray Rayner. He squatted down and asked me my name. I shyly said ‘Robert’ and he patted me on the head.”
— Robert Haugland
“I stood in the middle of a protest at City Hall when Fast Eddie Vrdolyak and his buddies were plotting to steal the mayors office after Harold Washington’s funeral.”
— Kim Johnson
“I got on the L at 4 in the morning to head to Belmont and woke up at the end of the line in Englewood.”
— Kevin Moon
The most Chicago thing happened the day I arrived
One of the most Chicago things happened to me the day I got back here after living in California for 40 years.
It was a balmy 25 degrees in January 2024, following five days of subfreezing temperatures. I took a cab from Midway with my backpack, a CPAP machine that I never use, a carry-on bag and two duffel bags.
As I arrive at the Lake View building where I’m subletting my niece’s studio apartment and exit the cab. Between the snow, 15 inches so far that month, the cars parked almost bumper to bumper and being a pack mule, I have to walk 30 feet up the street to find a spot where I can get to the sidewalk.
I push through the unlocked front gate. My niece left the keys in a lock box just inside the gate. I drop my five bags in the snow and push on the lock box’s rollable numbers to enter the combination. The first dial won’t move. Neither will the other three.
I remove my gloves to apply more force, and the first number rolls into place. The other three are stuck. I push harder, and the metal digs into my fingertips, tearing a nail.
A woman is coming down the walkway from the apartment building. A neighbor! My savior? I introduce myself, explain my predicament and ask whether she has a screwdriver. Flathead or the other kind? she asks. Flat head, I say. She goes back in the building, returns with the screwdriver and tells me she is just walking down the street to pick something up and will be back in a couple minutes.
The screwdriver fails. I hold my hand over the numbers to try to thaw them. My neighbor returns. “I’ll go get some hot water,” she says. Chicagoans are nice and brilliant!
While she’s heating the water, I keep trying to thaw the dial with my fingers. The second digit moves into place. With a couple minutes of body heat, the others rotate. With all four numbers in place, I push the black plastic lever that opens the box. The lever is stuck. A little more finger heat. A harder push. And it opens.
Inside are the keys. They are frozen together in a chunk of ice. My neighbor returns, and even this Chicagoan is surprised by the sight. I place the keys on the ground. She pours the hot water over them, and minutes later I am in my apartment — which is too hot because the heat is controlled by a central boiler. Hello, Chicago!
— Ari Soglin
