six points

I biked to an outdoor festival yesterday but was surprised by the $5 entry fee. I refused to pay. There was no sense in paying to stand under a tent with fratty northsiders when the sun was shining, so instead I unlocked my bike and headed up Lincoln. I wanted to ogle the vintage Telecasters at the Chicago Music Exchange, but my day had started late and the store was already closed by the time I got there.

Having been thwarted twice, I had nothing left to do but meander over to the Lakefront Path via Lincoln Park sidestreets. Chicago is laid out in a sensible, logical grid. The streets are evenly spaced: eight blocks is one mile. Every fourth street is a major street (for commerce/traffic), and all the streets in between are smaller and more suitable for residences. The blocks are large enough that their perimeters can be lined with homes and they can be bisected by back alleys for access to the garages behind the living spaces. As a bike commuter and car-disliker, I don't like how car-centered this allows Chicago to be, but it must be convenient for those who drive.

The north-south streets intersect with east-west streets at perfect ninety degree angles, creating a grid for easy navigation: State and Madison Streets form the 0 N/S 0 E/W intersection, so if I told native Chicagoan I lived at 1200 north and 1600 west, he would know that I lived at the intersection of Division Street (1200N, twelve blocks north of Madison) and Ashland Avenue (1600W, sixteen blocks east of State). This makes it extremely easy to know where you are and to gauge travel distances.

In addition to the north-south and east-west streets, there are a few streets that run diagonal to the grid, including Milwaukee, Elston, Lincoln, Clybourn, etc. These streets are also sensible because (1) it's faster to travel on the hypotenuse of a triangle than on its two legs, and (2) diagonal streets intersect with the north-south/east-west streets to form six-point intersections around which commerce and public transportation can cluster. The Damen-North-Milwaukee intersection near my house is one such example. Traffic around it slows to crawl, but that has created the conditions for a dense and lively constellation of bars, restaurants, bookstores, and boutiques. I missed out on the gentrification of Wicker Park, so I have no nostaglia for the grimy past nor resentment of the shiny present; I am just happy to be able to walk to two nice independent bookstores (Myopic and Quimby's) and two of my favorite music venues (The Double Door and Subterranean) in fifteen minutes.

These six-point intersections can also be nightmarish to cross, however. Because of the way the lights are timed, a pedestrian might have to wait for three sets of traffic lights to rotate through their full cycles before crossing over to the other side of the street. It's dangerous for bikers, walkers, and drivers.

Yesterday I found myself at the intersection of Belmont (E/W), Ashland (N/S), and Lincoln (diagonal) trying to figure out which way to head to the lake. Though it was sunny, the air that blew through the loose neck of my t-shirt felt cold and windy. An Asian man pulled up on a bicycle next to mine and said, Boy, I never know where to go at this intersection! I responded, It's my first time at this intersection! He said, Which one is Belmont? And I said, I don't know for sure, but probably that one running slight left up there.

The light changed, and we rolled across one street and stopped at the next light, waiting for that one to change. The man on the bicycle said again, Jeez, this intersection is always like this, isn't it? I said, I don't really know, it's my first time here!

Then the light changed again and we rolled to the third traffic light. This time I was in front of him on my bicycle. I heard him saying something behind me. I said, What? He said, I said, you look like my cousin's friend, but not really, but from a distance I thought you might be my cousin's friend. I said, Oh, ha ha. He asked me again where Belmont was, and I pointed at the street I had gestured at earlier. He took Belmont east and I took Lincoln southeast. Have a good weekend! he shouted at the back of my head. You too! I shouted back as I churned my legs toward the lake.

Writing this down has made me think of a joke I read in a book of noir stories set in Chicago. (An awful book, try not to buy it. I will send you my copy if you want.) The joke goes Q: What are the streets in Chicago that rhyme with "vagina"? A: Paulina, Melvina, and Lunt.

What I like about this joke isn't the crass punchline, but the fact that in Chicago, "Paulina" is pronounced "Paul-EYE-na." Now that's a riot!