Summer in the City

Last week, I finally found my sunglasses. I’m still not sure how I lost them, since I was wearing them for 12 hours on the drive up to Chicago and then had them on my head for another 6 hours afterwards, but I did. I lost my sunglasses, which are more like an extension of my face, in an apartment that has nothing more than my clothes, some toiletries, and an air mattress. I’m special that way. Anyway, I was so glad to have my sunglasses back, because without them I was wandering around the city of Chicago without my veil of anonymity. As I explained to my friend, Sarah, I was also really excited because without my sunglasses, I felt like I had to smile at everyone I saw on the street. Sarah kindly shook her head and laughed at me, because, as she said, "People don’t do that in the city." I guess even Southern hospitality has its limits. However, what I’m more embarrassed about is that it’s not just that I felt like I had to smile at people on the street. You see, something about having that awkward moment of eye contact and smiling on the street causes me to say "hey" or "how are you doing" when in fact I don’t really want to engage this stranger in conversation, so it really isn’t an out loud "hello" but more of an under-my-breath, I might be schizophrenic or a panhandler kind of greeting. So, in addition to talking to myself on the street, I have also probably given my neighbors the impression that I am either mentally ill or in dire need of their spare change. Again, I guess I’m really just special that way.