After realizing that I had reserved a number of photographs from my trip to Chicago and noting the incoherence of their subject matter, I found myself tempted to title this entry “Chicago danglers.”
Fortunately, I have resisted the temptation to make a tasteless joke.
A framed illustration of a Turkish man being treated for elephantiasis. From the collection of The International College of Surgeons, Chicago.
The image below pictures an aluminum jacket (brace?) manufactured by A.M. Phelps at the turn of the 19th century. According to an attached caption, A.M. Phelps touted this jacket as tidy, lightweight and durable alternative to the other clunky duds on the market.
It would be very interesting to see this modeled by a woman with a slight excess of flesh.
If the oddities you have been witness to have not been overwhelming, it is time to drop another chip on the table. It is true that this image of an adorable underground musician is innocuous. But the fumes in the Chicago subway tubes certainly are not.
At first whiff, one thinks that one has simply passed through a pocket of bad air. At second whiff, one realizes that the entire subway tube reeks of urine. At third whiff, one wonders if the subway tube is a urethra. At fourth whiff one marvels at the fact that the subway tunnel does not merely smell of urine. No, the odor is more complex. It also smells like a urinal wafer.
Foul smells aside, the Chicago subway system may be one of the best in the country, excluding of course, the semi-frequent occurrence of a blue line train derailing and bursting into flames.
I ended my trip to Chicago watching the sun rise over Lake Michigan. It was my pleasure to enjoy the company of a family which celebrated the occasion by throwing large bottles of malt liquor into its waters. After the festivities, they declaimed the wonder of that rising astral body in a heartwarming verse of Ebonics:
Woooop! Woot woot! Yea! Wooop!
