Cold.

Yesterday was a frigid spring day in Chicago. It was the kind of day where the wind blasts you in the face, slithers down your body, and constricts your bones of any warmth, until your left feeling as stiff and gelid as the tin man. I did not want to go to my internship at all. I was dreading standing for six hours on the cold sidewalks of Chicago, but I made my commitment to be out there and I had to be loyal to it.

It truly was painful. I never knew that my eyeballs to feel cold, until last night. Only when I would blink did they receive any relief from the atrocious and unforgiving wind. Each stop we went to cleared out 30 minutes early, leaving only the rats and abandoned grocery bags to dance under the moonlight.

I found that it wasn't so easy for me to complain about having to be outside once I was there. I would soon be alleviated of the cold as soon as I walked into my apartment building, I had some place to look forward to. My friends of the streets would not feel this same relief as I.

Towards the end of the night one of the supervisors explained why he comes out here night after night. For an hour or two we can provide a place for these people to look forward to. At the bus they can reenergize and not have to worry about being shot at, someone stealing there things, or being ignored. These stops are a refuge where they talk to other men and not have to worry about a fight; they can talk to women without being rejected.

Last night it hit me almost as hard as the wind rapping at my face, my time here is going to end in 2 months.

I don't want to have to say goodbye to more friends.

I don't want to leave.

I really enjoy my internship.

The Bus Stop Diaries.

The sun has finally revealed its rays onto the city of Chicago. It’s warming up (and when I say warming up I mean it’s 37 degrees), the birds are chirping, and people are actually smiling. I’m sporting my spring jacket, naked appendages (no hat, gloves, or socks), and moccasins.

As I head out of the elevators the meek miniature greyhound emerges from the front room. He eerily stares at me with his large black eyes, his body so frail and soft he’s ghost-like. Those huge eyes floating above his soft gray frame make him appear even more miniature than he is.

Meandering outside and into the sun, I can’t believe that a ten-degree rise in temperature can warm things up so much. I stroll on over to the #29 bus stop and plant myself on the bench. The sun has never felt better. A man, donning a ever so lovely newsboy hat joins me with a “Hi, how’s it going?” I find myself somewhat startled, I don’t remember the last time anyone has said hello to me while waiting for a bus. It’s normally a slightly awkward experience, standing in such close proximity to other human beings and not saying anything. It’s like standing in an elevator. If anyone were to say anything at all it would be a crime. Sometimes I want to scream, “Hello! How are you?......Why are you giving me that strange look for smiling at you? I’m a human, you’re a human, and we are both standing on the same sidewalk, at the same moment in time, how awesome is that?!”

His saying hello was refreshing.

It’s amazing what you’ll see when you’re awaiting the arrival of the #29 bus.

A blue Cavalier is stopped at the light. The smoke of a cigarette snakes its way outside, through the crack of his window. As the light turns green, this said Cavalier begins to rolls past the white line. Suddenly it stops. The driver steps out of his car, strolls to the back and picks up the lit cigarette, placing it back into his mouth he gets back into the car and drives away.

…..

Newsboy-cap man and I exchange glances. Did that man honestly stop in the middle of a green light to go back and pick up his smoldering cigarette that lay on the frigid pavement of State street!?

Yes, yes he did.

So begins, the bus stop diaries. It’s silly, I know, but there are just some things that happen while you’re waiting for the bus that simply need to be recorded.