One Sleepy Little Town

Against the advice of husband, I am downtown today, eight stories above Michigan Avenue in my "office", my library perch that is my favorite place to write. Insisting that I needed the quiet to get a few things finished before summer begins,but really knowing that I could not let all this madness happen without my having a front row seat, I wedged onto the train this morning with everyone else racing to get to work.

But there were only six people on the train, with seats available, even one for my bag. There were no armpits in my face, no drops of coffee dripped onto my foot, not one bit of suffering through much too loud music being pumped into my seat mates ears; the train was almost empty, at 8:30 in the morning.

And then it got even creepier: there was no one in the Starbucks, no taxis racing across Monroe, no map clutching tourists on the corner. There are no people downtown, just as the news said it would be. 

Did everyone really listen to the warnings to stay away?

Yesterday, as I watched from home, the street outside the Art Institute looked like this:

On that street today, right now, there are two security guards, two parked cars (which is completely illegal), one person pushing a cart of some sort and one person who looks absolutely lost.

It's possible the protestors are all home, wherever that might be, with some blazing headaches as they were bashed around a bit yesterday, a post protest hangover of sorts. And I suppose that most of the Chicago Police Department is suffering from dehydration, having spent yesterday, and it's 93 degree heat, in full riot gear, including helmets and face shields. The much cooler temperatures today, combined with some serious IV fluids, might bring them back tonight.

But for now, all is quiet, which is good as I've got some work to get finished before summer begins.

Images courtesy of first, the Rockford Register Star, and second, The Chicago Tribune. I was not available yesterday to take pictures.