12:15PM ish
On the train, I watched a woman pick up the fallen chip from the curl of her zipper and eat it. I smiled under my breath, thinking I would do the same thing. Then looked at what type of chips she was eating. Regular Cheetos.
This is my first time in Chicago without remarkable emotional turmoil, and it feels even better than before. I laugh and kick my feet up where I used to weep. I always quite enjoyed being melancholic in other cities not-Los-Angeles, because at least the wreckage of this place is in rose colors. I don’t know if it’s being anywhere but there, but everything feels so easy when you leave your life behind—taxes, feeding schedules, car maintenance, glass bottle recycling, things like that. I suppose the funny thing is it will find ways to remind you of the ecosystems and memory that are ever so present in our lives. They show up in new faces, streets names and feeling as if I’ve been here before. Actually, it should come as no surprise that whatever I love will find me, and everything I hate about the world will follow steps behind.
3:45PM ish
Later in the day, I finished work and was walking to the train to head back to where I’m staying. I was drawn to a sign that said Chicago hot dogs because my client and I had talked about it during our appointment. She said she doesn’t like all the sandwich toppings they add to it, just ketchup and mustard. I disagree. I thought I’d try it for myself. I order a hot dog (and it came with fries) and a Diet Pepsi. I was the only person at the shop as it was a strange time to eat dinner or lunch. I don’t mind eating alone, and just sat waiting for my food. I liked looking at all the vintage American signs of Pepsi, Dr. Pepper and Mountain Dew. I used to collect memorabilia of this sorts during the vintage craze specific to 2010s “indie” teenagers. The Beatles were also painted on the wall wearing hot dog costumes. Americana in this nostalgic setting felt so perfect, as if the world then wasn’t also tainted with bigotry. I texted my friends about the hot dog and said, “God’s America”. In a restaurant where the white ladies on the metal signs smiled so bright and soda was a priority in the human diet, I felt simply content, sitting with one leg up on the chair enjoying a Chicago hot dog for the first time.
A Chicago dog is an all-beef hot dog on a steamed poppy seed bun, famously “dragged through the garden” with seven specific toppings: yellow mustard, neon-green relish, chopped white onions, tomato wedges, a dill pickle spear, sport peppers, and celery salt. It is typically made with a Vienna Beef frankfurter and traditionally excludes ketchup.
shari wei 