Monday, August 17 (Day One of the Convention)
I ride my bike to the convention hall, I take the Lakefront Trail south. The city looks perfect from here: the sky is beautiful, the path curves and you can see the Adler Planetarium, the Shedd Aquarium, and the Field Museum. It is windy today—the good kind of windy—our fabled Windy City presenting itself to the delegates. Only, this wind is nothing like the nightmare wind of winter, how you walk home and all you can think about is being cold and how long it will be until you are not cold. I bike over Navy Pier, I see the water taxis rocking in the water, I forgot how long it has been since I’ve been on a water taxi, which costs not much more than subway fare to ride, get off in Chinatown for lunch, and get back on again home. But no one is on the boat today, which looks rickety and fragile in the waves. Red flags are flying, a beach hazard day.
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