Every time I think about how long I’ve lived here, I get really confused. I spent my first Summer in Chicago in 2008. I had my first Winter (of life) in 2009 and my second Summertime Chi in 09, too. So by my calculations, (assuming at this Winter is um, completing itself? What Winter?) I’ve spent 4 Summers and 3 Winters here which I guess averages to…..I’ve lived here 3 years. THREE YEARS, GUYS. That’s as long as I stayed at one high school and as long as I lived in San Francisco during college. According to habit, I should be leaving soon and I”m not. I won’t get into the details there. But to follow is a list of things Chicago has made me do. Things that I mention on Skype dates and phone calls to friends back in CA who are like, whaaaaa? 

#1:  Yell at cabbies— my Uncle Herbie drove a cab in San Francisco for decades; so my first impression of cab drivers were friendly, raspy-voiced men in Burberry caps armed with facts and feats about the city, tremendous stories about the time they drove Pavarotti to the Moscone Center….you know, friendly guys who could be spotted drinking milk shakes at Mel’s— classic Americana!

In Chicago? WRONG. Who taught these A$$ Holes how to fuck up a drive? As anyone whose ever stepped into a cab in Chicago knows, the road is a battlefield. First, you’ve got to ask the motherfucker if he takes cards- he will probably say yes (later, he will say he didn’t hear you ask) Then you’ve got to ask the motherfucker if he knows where your destination is. He will probably wave his hands at you and say yes. Then, he will pass Michigan and keep heading towards State and purposefully come across a series of one-ways that will add $10 to your fare and you will have to pay that shit, oh, in CASH, which adds another $5 to your fare when you have to stop at the ATM while your cab waits because “the machine is down”. As my friend Damon from New York said that last time he was in town, “well my card is UP”. 

 #2 Eat Breakfast Sandwiches—a breakfast sandwich is not merely a bagel smeared with cream cheese, lox, and capers, NO it is a butter-slathered, toasted bagel wedged with multiple cheeses, meats, an egg-patty of some kind and yes, some cream cheese. And they are amazing! I’m telling you, you cannot get a breakfast sandwich in the Bay Area (to my knowledge) outside of a trip to McDonalds before 10:30 am. You especially cannot get a breakfast sandwich in my parents’ kitchen—in fact, right now, my dad is probably eating half of a cantaloupe for breakfast when he could be eating a bacon egg and cheese bagel sandwich toasted to golden perfection. Someone needs to invent a food truck that cruises around San Francisco and serves nothing but delicious fucking breakfast sandwiches. Who invented the breakfast sandwich, Dunkin Dounuts? They are amazing I tell you.

#3 Judge people’s “where are you from?” answers—One of the first conversations I ever had with my boyfriend was when I first moved here for a Summer and he asked me where I’m from. I answered “San Francisco” as a reference point to the town I grew up in 40 miles North called Petaluma; he called me out, gave me tons of shit, and started blabbering about how I “probably had San Francisco down as your hometown on Facebook “ and shit too. Needless to say, I did not like him AT ALL. Three years later, we are in love and I totally get why Chicago holds so much anger for people who use this city as a reference point when asked where they are from instead of claiming Lake River, Glen Hill, Forestbrook or whatever god-awfully named suburban sprawl is listed on their Driver’s License. Dude, just say where you’re from! It’s not a big deal! There are tons of cool, relevant, successful people who are from nowhere places—like Bruce Springsteen and Lil’ Bow Wow and Winona Ryder—she went to junior high in my hometown…..and she vehemently denies this in many 90’s interviews…..so fuck her too!

#4 Not talking to strangers—I am formerly Miss Talks to Everyone and this new development of becoming Miss Gives a Dirty Look to Everyone is something I toil with. But in a city where people love to “box” people, I quickly learned (well, not so quickly) that anyone you randomly strike up a conversation with either thinks you’re going to a.) give them a job b.) give them some money c.) give them some ass. In regards to woman-on-woman spontaneous public conversation, she will think you a.) want to take her job b.) want to copy her outfit c.) this is just a really awkward interaction from the start because she doesn’t know what you want (it’s really hard to meet girlfriends in Chicago but this is for another time).  So anyways, now I keep to myself (sad face) and sometimes I think about this guy I met on the Red Line (not like that, you guys!!!) and what he might be up to. It was my first full day in Chicago and I was on my way downtown to apply for serving jobs and he sat next to me and told me not to judget his “high school reading list book”. He was reading Catcher in the Rye and was a student at DePaul. I think he was one of the last people I genuinely met in a public place in Chicago. The rest have been bartenders, bus drivers, and creepy CPD officers—- all in uniform.

Clearly, there is more where this came from but now I’m exhausted. The point is, you changed me, Chicago. You made me a keener, snarkier, breakfast sandwich-eating woman and I appreciate you.   Sincerely yours, Emily Rose