CBD gummies in hand, I begin my short walk back to my apartment. I’m never walking on Clark St unless I need something specific that can only be found on Clark St, because Clark St can be a little scary. It’s the street that Wrigley field is on (the Chicago baseball stadium) and has become widely accepted as The Place for 21 year olds to drink in Chicago. What does that mean? It can be a little scary.
Anyway, I’m minding my own business (not really, because Clark St is one of the best places to people watch, so I’m actually getting distracted left and right), working up the nerve and the timing to pass the very slow gentleman in front of me. It’s important to time encounters like this perfectly. The strategy of passing can get particularly tricky when people (like the gentleman in front of me) have noise canceling headphones on. I need to pass but not scare him, mostly because getting bopped in the face on Clark St is not on my Bingo card for today.
As we approach an empty parking spot, I see my opportunity. I’ll dart into the empty parking spot, giving the gentleman a respectable birth, hopefully allowing him to spot me in his periphery, and then I’ll dart back onto the sidewalk in front of him.
The parking spot approaches.
I begin my dash.
And almost collide face to face with a kid clearly doing the exact same thing.
I’m flustered enough that I turn to watch him as he hops back up onto the sidewalk and dashes away, returning to a full sprint in jeans, a hoodie and slides. But that’s not the weirdest part. In his arms he clutches nothing but a large box of Hefty garbage bags.
Why there was an 18 (ish) year old boy sprinting down the street at 12pm on Clark St in jeans and slides and a large box of trash bags is, unfortunately, a mystery to me. Any guesses?