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theurbanologist · 1 month

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I Could Go For Another Eclipse Right Now

All I can think about right now is the eclipse.

I was out with my students when the eclipse started. We stood around in a circle, each pulling out our eclipse glasses to briefly look up. I still had my glasses from the 2017 eclipse (Jack Daniels branded---don't ask) and I shared my optical devices with several students who had forgotten to come prepared.

The temperature dropped and dropped----"Damn, that's cold", one student remarked.

Another student started humming on a kazoo. I don't think I had seen a kazoo in twenty years, or at least the last time I had seen a one-man band in Traverse City wandering around that fair city's celebrated Cherry Festival.

One student found time to draw a chalk circle with the words "SUN AND MOON LET'S HAVE SOME FUN" After she was done, she handed the chalk to her classmate. She kneeled down and made a smiling sun embracing the moon inside the circle.

Near the peak of the eclipse, several students from another college approached me and asked if they could use my glasses.

Sure, I said.

And they did.

Near us, a few people were gathered in a drum circle. Another clutch of college students had made matching tin-foil hats and asked to join in the percussive rhythms. One person in the drum circle handed them a couple of make-shift guiros assembled out of corrugated metal.

After the eclipse was done, my class gathered together again to continue on our journey.

One of my favorite students (yes, I have favorites) leaned in close and said "Max, that was fucking cool. The sun and the moon brought us all together."

Yes they did.

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theurbanologist · 3 months

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Everybody poops. Not everybody saunas.

Have you used the bathroom today?

I'm guessing you have. Every single human being on this Earth has to expel waste products at some point each day. I am hoping that you have a place to expel said waste products in a place that is quiet, clean, and where no one is bothering you.

Pubic bathrooms are an essential part of allowing people to use public spaces continuously without seeking out a bathroom in a nearby hotel or restaurant.

On a casual stroll past Boston's City Hall Plaza last week, I noticed this attractive structure with a small sign that read "SAUNA" in large black letters.

Nowhere on this sign did I see the word "BATHROOM"

As it turns out, the city of Boston contracted with a third party vendor to create a winter "activation" at City Hall Plaza. Talking with the attendant, I learned that this mobile sauna is available at no charge through March 3rd. This amicable saunattendant told me about the website where I could sign up to reserve a space. I walked away and as I browsed on over to the site, I learned that they were all booked up---no room at the sauna.

Let's be clear: I'm definitely pro-sauna. I have some lower back pain and I do love sitting in climate controlled interior spaces where there are no phones and very little conversation.

And I'm definitely very much in favor of getting people out in the colder winter months, but damnit, cities should focus on the basics, which include clean and plentiful public bathrooms.

I'll point out that Boston just dropped $70 million on City Hall Plaza's renovation.

Honestly, I feel that they could have at least dropped in a Honey Bucket as part of this scheme.

Maybe one with a working lock, why not?

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theurbanologist · 1 year

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My 2022 Highlight: The We Will Chicago Plan

I've been involved with many arts and culture plans over the years.

It's been an honor and it's also been a lot of difficult work. Work that is most valuable, but at times, the process can involve bringing together a raft of competing agendas and personalities.

This year, I'm most proud of my year long work on the city of Chicago's "We Will Chicago" plan. Specifically, I was involved with the arts and culture section of this 148-page document.

Over the course of a dozen plus meetings, our arts and culture team met via Zoom to look at ways to address resiliency in the cultural arts sector around Chicago, create new opportunities for emerging artists, and work on bringing together different groups of artists and creatives around the city.

You can read the entire plan here.

And happy New Year!

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theurbanologist · 2 years

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In The Wake of The News(stand)

As you well know, cities contain multitudes.

There are tobacconists, there are clothing stores, there are drug stores, there are shoe stores, and there are places where you can buy erotic pastries. I mention erotic pastries specifically because there was was just such a place near my family's apartment in Seattle. My brother and I would walk by and hope to get a glimpse of a breast rendered in glorious fondant---we were usually not successful.

For centuries, cities have also contained newsstands or some place like a newsstand where you could buy printed materials. My favorite one will always be the now shuttered newsstand in the Pike Place Market. Along with dozens of monthly and weekly magazines, there were stacks of out of town Sunday edition newspapers, including the Washington Post, the Boston Globe, the New Orleans Times-Picayune, and the Chicago Tribune, aka the World's Greatest Newspaper.

Before I started college, my dad picked up the Chicago Tribune on several consecutive Sundays. I pored over ever single section as I learned about the Cubs daily exploits, the seemingly infinite suburban communities surrounding Chicago proper, and the upcoming musical and theatrical shows at places like Drury Lane, the Ivanhoe Theatre, and the Auditorium Theater.

It was a big paper for a big town.

You might imagine my joy when, a few months later, I arrived in Chicago for college and found that there were no less than five newsstands within a ten minute walk of my dorm.

And guess what?

There were real life human beings who sold the paper out on the street. Real "extra, extra, extra!" type stuff over on East 55th Street, over on South Lake Park Avenue and even one fellow who stood at the entrance to Lake Shore Drive who SOLD PAPERS AND BAGS OF FRUIT TO PEOPLE WAITING FOR THE LIGHT TO CHANGE.

It all seemed so very cosmopolitan to a young man from Way Out West.

Fast-forward over twenty five years and the pandemic has added another body blow to the newsstand landscape. Many folks were and still are working from home and the cost of actual newsprint has gone up, up and away. I'll spare you the usual asides about the other changes within the world of newspapers because that's another conversation.

The situation for newsstands continues to get worse in other large cities as well. The numbers continue to dwindle in Philadelphia and the newsstand in Boston's South Station closed during the pandemic. Apparently, the former newsstand space there will soon become a place to buy novelty 3D greeting cards---which retail for $15 each.

In Chicago, the news about newsstands is not great either. The large newsstand on Michigan Avenue across from the Water Tower closed during the pandemic. Honestly, your best bet for getting an actual newspaper anywhere nearby is at Walgreens or 7-11.

The situation in New York isn't much better. In January 2021, I was back in the city to write about the opening of Amtrak's Moynihan Train Station. One early morning I got up and walked for two miles on Broadway before I found a newsstand that was open. Apparently, it's still pretty hard to find a copy of any paper at any newsstand in Zoo York.

I would imagine that within my lifetime the last newsstand will go POOF---at least in the United States. Until then, I will try to make my way to one of Chicago's last newsstands as much as humanly possible.

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theurbanologist · 2 years

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25 Years Gone By Is Now 30 Years Gone By---A Book Project Update

Hi everyone.

Five years ago, I started working on my next book.

I decided to retrace my 1992 solo trip around the country as a teenager. On that trip, I took my Amtrak pass and made my way to Boston, New Orleans, Chicago, DC, and other points along the way.

I stayed in hostels, college dorms, and with family friends. I had extravagant adventures while becoming a vaguely independent young adult.

It's been a busy five years (Hi pandemic! Hi life! Hi work! Hi other commitments!) and summer 2022 will find me fully committed to this project. I'll be out on the rails and revisiting some of these places to see what's changed---who lives where, who am I, what are these buildings, what's good on the sidewalk, where can I hear jazz, what are other travelers talking about, etc, etc, etc.

I'd love your support with this project and you can sign up to receive my newsletter here.

Max, what have you written about so far for this project?

Great question.

Here's a few missives from my work in the service of this book project.

I went to find out what happened to the former Chicago youth hostel.

I pondered the woman whose home I stayed in before I started my program for bright young people at the University of Virginia in 1992.

I sat in on a current version of that same program to see what young people are up to these days.

And here's a piece about visiting the Isabella Stewart Gardner in the first few months after the pandemic started.

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theurbanologist · 2 years

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Public Bathrooms Are Infrastructure

Most cities could use more public bathrooms.

Boston is no exception.

Here's my report on the situation.

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theurbanologist · 3 years

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How Can It Rain and Rain Every Day Of The Year?

I'm standing next to my niece as she flips through the posters at Golden Age Collectables in the Pike Place Market. She flips to one featuring The Office's Dwight Schrute, laughs, and keeps on flipping. "Max, keep your eye out for Billie Ellish."

I think I know what she looks like----maybe? I've definitely seen her in the New York Post's Sunday celebrity section as I've been cutting and pasting it into collages of varying quality for months. I know that she sings and she is very popular.

My niece is giving me the look that says "I need to browse alone, okay?" so I make for the exit. Once back into the Pike Place Market's lower level, I look around. Handbag emporium (BUY HEMP BAGS screams one sign), natural foods and vitamin store (can't believe this is still here), a coin and baseball card store (see previous comment) and a garden variety Seattle souvenir store.

Pass, pass, pass to the first three.

Bring on the Pike Place Market aprons, Seattle Mariners onesies, and tiny Space Needle models.

Amidst the legions of crap I don't want, I spot a four-pack of lapel pins for $7.99. I only really want the one with the Monorail gliding effortlessly away from the Space Needle. Of course, I can always give the other three away to other lapel pin enthusiasts.

I pay with cash and the man behind the counter effortlessly gives me change while also managing to open a massive cardboard box containing t-shirts that read "Seattle Krakens----Unleashed!". I'm impressed by his motor abilities, particularly the deft movements that allowed him to keep one hand working with a box cutter while he put on a fine motor skills display extracting change from the far right hand drawer.

Impressive.

As I turn to leave, his colleague behind the counter says "Are you looking for anything else?"

"You know, growing up here I always wanted some of that Mount St. Helens ash. You could buy it all over the place for years. Made into tiny Mount St. Helens, in tiny bottles, and all kinds of other stuff."

She puts down her box and her box cutter.

I predict an Important Story will follow.

"Before I moved to the US from Korea in 1980, my family brought me a shirt from the [Pike Place] Market. It was one of those shirts that had an umbrella and the words 'Seattle Rain Festival 365 Days a Year" written beneath the umbrella. I remember thinking 'How could it rain and rain every day of the year?" I thought it was a joke. Then I moved from Seoul the next year---in June, I should say. And I thought no problem. The sun is out every day! I can totally do this. Then November came----I think the end of daylight savings time brought out the rain, you know? It was grey for months---and there was rain almost every single day for six months. Now that I think about it, you can't find that shirt around the market anymore. It's just like the Mount St. Helens ash."

I thank her for the story and as I leave, I think "Boy, I'm glad I came in here."

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theurbanologist · 3 years

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Yes, I Have A Newsletter.

Good day to you all.

Everyone has a newsletter these days----and yes, I'm one of those people.

After years of seeing my writing in a wide range of outlets, , I decided to make the plunge.

Folks seem to enjoy my writings about cities and other matters, so it felt like the right time to dive on in.

And you're wondering----"Max, what might this newsletter look like?" Ah yes-----here's an example.

I hope you'll choose to support my work.

You can sign up here.

Thank you.

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theurbanologist · 3 years

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The Conversations We Still Have Not Had

Last Friday found me at Blue Chicago completely surrounded by the Delta blues variant.

Okay, let me explain. Blue Chicago is a blues club in Chicago's River North region/area/real estate experience where one can hear the blues seven nights a week. Ah, never mind---during the COVID times it is four nights a week.

Each night the show starts at 9 and in the Before COVID (BC) times you had damn sure better get there at 8:30 at THE LATEST or you would be jostling outside the club waiting for Jessica and her bachelorette party to leave the club after ten minutes as they made their way north to Hugo's Frog Bar or maybe Carmine's.

And only then you could enter.

As for my latest blues injection, I showed up at exactly 9 and there was plenty of space for your humble narrator. One Old Style, one Max, and one stool next to some people visiting from Kansas who said "Sure, you can sit here."

9:10PM says my analog watch with the color wheels and a man steps up to the microphone at the front of the stage.

"Are you ready for the blues?", he says.

There is modest applause and one shout---the feel of a rowdy chapbook release party.

It is clear that some people may not be ready for the blues.

"That was fucking terrible." No more clinks, no more laughter. The crowd is silent.

"ARE YOU READY FOR THE BLUES TONIGHT!"

There are as many shouts, or so it seems, as vigorous hand claps.

"YOU ARE READY FOR THE BLUES!"

Yes, we are.

The set proceeds and we have a mix of Stevie Ray Vaughan covers, a few Muddy Waters tunes, a couple of originals and the closer is "Sweet Home Chicago" because of course it is.

It is close to 10pm and I'm exhausted. I still feel a bit of trepidation being around folks in an enclosed space, even though the whole thing is marvelous and live music thrills me like few things do.

I make my way to the exit and I pause to talk with the bouncer.

"What have the crowds been like the past few weeks?", I ask.

"Well, we still have folks showing up on Monday and Tuesday asking about live music, which well [laughs] we don't have because we just don't have the people---you need people to be here to make it all work."

"I always figured people coming to Chicago want to hear the blues.", says I.

"They do", he says. "But with the shit going on with this new variant it's hard to figure out exactly what's next. I'm not an expert, but it feels like we're all being pulled back and forth, especially with live music and in a venue like ours."

A moment passes, maybe a beat or two.

"We didn't have some tough conversations earlier on during all of this. Maybe we will in the future."

Maybe he's right.

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theurbanologist · 3 years

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Breezin' On The Mag Mile

A crowd gathers even though the musician has not played a note.

Derrick Tate, professional saxophonist and instructor, waits a bit. There’s a bucket in front of him indicating his vocation (as if you didn’t know), along with details about his Facebook, Instagram, and Venmo particulars.

An older woman calls out “Play whatever. We just want to hear live music”.

Derrick responds with an emphatic “I hear you and I will play!”

A young man steps up and drops a few bucks in the bucket and says “Can I request something?” Derrick says “Yes, you can.”

He continues: “I will take four requests and then I will make my way through the requests. It can be old school, new school, jazz, or whatever strikes you. If I don’t know it.”

And here he pauses.

“Then I’ll try to know it!”, Derrick exclaims.

The same older woman says “That’s the mark of an entertainer. Keep the people happy—no….KEEP ALL OF US HERE HAPPY!”

“You have sixty seconds to come up and make requests”. After Derrick says this there are some interested looks from fellow music lovers. Ten seconds go by.

Once again, that young man who wants to make a request comes up and make a request. He comes close and leans in a bit. I’m nearby and I hear “Brood Criminal”

“Okay, okay. We have our first request—and it’s Smooth Criminal—that’s good, I like to play the MJ hits. Glad to see young people still listen to MJ.” This is an odd way to take on a few years, as this young man and Derrick are probably the same age.

The first request has been filed and others come up. One woman wants “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys and another person wants to hear Van Morrison’s “Moondance”. Derrick asks this last individual if she will be dancing with a special someone to this song. She looks at her boyfriend and he looks down at his feet.

So the answer is “No”.

I step in close to ask Derrick if I can hear George Benson’s Breezin’. “Okay, that’s another oldie. I don’t know it, but I can make it through the changes probably.”

Rather pleased, we all wait for the sax to make its way to Derrick’s mouth. He plays all of our requests.

We are happy.

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theurbanologist · 3 years

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A Tale of Six Bathrooms

Let’s face it—everybody poops.

And everybody pees.

Whether you are abled, differently abled, somewhat abled, brown, pinkish, somewhere in-between-ish, gay, CIS-ish, polyamor-ish, tallish, stoutish, fit-ish, or whatever, you will need to use the bathroom at some point in your life. Maybe you’re thinking—oh, I should probably get up and use the facilities right now if Max is going to keep on keeping on with this post.

Parks, beaches, public buildings, and other egalitarian spaces are made more egalitarian and open when they have well-maintained public restrooms. They are infinitely more important than trendy initiatives like “rewilding” initiatives, creating Instagrammable backgrounds, and opening beer gardens—even though as you know, I love my Old Style.

To bogart the insufferable trending locution one might find on certain Social Media Channels, let me say this:

BATHROOMS ARE INFRASTRUCTURE.

With this in mind, I set out yesterday to look at six “public” bathrooms as offered up by the official Boston Harborwalk map. All of these facilities are within a fifteen minute walk of the New England Aquarium, which struck me as a good place to begin.

First, a bit of my modus operandi, or my way of conducting this highly unscientific public restroom audit.

I decided to specifically appear as if I was consulting my phone as I approached the host stand/entrance/public doorway if I were to consult a local gatekeeper. I would then look up and say “Hey, I am using this Harborwalk map and it says you have a public bathroom here. May I use it?

That’s it—my deep philosophy for going undercover and appearing as if I was just a babe wandering the waterfront with a pressing need to use the restroom.

1. Long Wharf Marriott

This hotel is probably best known for hosting a COVID super-spreader event last year. It's not their fault, of course, but it does make this place a notable public health landmark. When I walked in the main entrance, I immediately noted a free standing sign prominently displayed that gave clear instructions to the bathrooms. You walk past the Starbucks (closed) in the first floor lobby, through another set of doors and voila. There’s no signage to indicate when the bathrooms might be closed, but overall a job well done.

2. Joe’s American Cafe

I can’t tell you what to order here, so let’s get that out of the way up front. The one and only time I’ve been to any part of the Joe’s American Cafe empire found me sharing nachos with some type of “disruptor” I met via Twitter who wanted to pump me for free information and work. I’m pretty sure he didn’t even pick up the tab.

Anyway, I walked up to the host stand and as I started my spiel the hostess said “Let me take you to the bathroom.” She did and I did what I had to do. Leaning up against the bathroom wall to scribble a few notes, a man said to me “Taking notes on the hand dryer huh? I do that too sometimes.” He left and I waited a few minutes as I wanted to give him a wide berth.

3. Long Wharf North Ferry Terminal

Despite this long and grandiose title, this is just a modest but well-designed outdoor public bathroom installed by the city of Boston in 2001. I’ve been by it hundreds of times over the past decade and it’s usually offline—which defeats the purpose of having a public bathroom wouldn’t you say?

Heading around to the water-side entrance, I notice that a sign posted next to the unit’s digital display screen: “Due to COVID 19 this toilet is out of service”. Like so many other public toilets in Boston, it has fallen victim to this global pandemic. But wait—other toilets have reopened, so what gives?

I look beneath the sign and find the unit’s markers mark. A short Google search reveals that it was manufactured by Wall USA, 88 Black Falcon Ave #277, Boston, MA. The search also shows that is permanently closed. Google is not always right, so I dial the number listed (617-757-8500) to see what’s going on and maybe even learn when the public might be able to use this fancy piece of machinery.

Ring ring rin—Hello, how can I help you?

Hi! I’m calling about the pay toilet next to the Long Wharf Marriott. There’s a sign here that says it’s out of order due to Covid. Can you tell me when it will be coming back online?

[Long pause]

We’re working to bring these toilets online in keeping with the governor’s emergency orders that expire on June 15th.

Oh, okay—and thank you. Are the toilets still managed by Wall USA?

Uh, no. This is JCDecaux and we are responsible for the outdoor public bathrooms in Boston.

Great—uh, did the governor’s emergency orders cover public bathrooms? I thought it was okay to reopen those bathrooms already. The one in the [Boston] Common seems to have reopened already.

[Longer pause]

The emergency orders expire on June 15th so we will make a determination about the bathrooms then.

Thank you. Do you know when the bathrooms will reopen and what the hours might be when they do reopen? I’ve just noticed that seem to go offline quite a bit, even during the previous hours of operations, you know, I mean pre-COVID.

[Sigh—the longest of pauses]

We will need to see what happens after June 15th to determine what the hours will be and which ones will reopen at that time.

Okay. Thanks again for your time and help.

Click.

4. Chart House

I made my way past six or seven tables of outside diners and into the dark interior of this venerable surf and turf chain. I paused to look at a display for Father’s Day brunch, glanced at my phone and as I caught the eye of a waiter balancing a troika of lobster rolls on a serving dish, I started my—

“The bathroom is around the bar and on your right”

Well, that answer that.

5. Bonus Content or Does This Pay Toilet Really Exist If It’s Not On An Official Map?

Walking nearby The Landing where you can get a Tequila Sunrise for $10.79 (reasonably priced for Boston) and the sign for Codzilla (a boat painted to resemble a ferocious cod that plays loud music and takes tourists into the middle of Boston Harbor), I spotted another pay toilet.

Now, I’ve walked by this pay toilet hundreds of times, but oh-ho—it is not on the official Boston Harborwalk map. Does it exist? Yes, it exists—even if it is not on the map. And yes, it is also closed due to COVID-era concerns, even if well, almost no one to the best of my knowledge has gotten COVID from a pay toilet or probably even a you don’t have to pay toilet.

There is one additional wrinkle I should tell you about this Other Unmapped Toilet. On the front of the stainless steel doors, there is a piece of paper taped to the front that reads as follows:

NEED A RESTROOM?

GO THROUGH LONG WHARF MARRIOTT HOTEL

(STRAIGHT AHEAD)

PUBLIC RESTROOMS ARE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HOTEL ON YOUR LEFT

I’d say those are pretty accurate way-finding instructions. And as previously noted, those restrooms are open for the general public.

6. The New England Aquarium—no wait—the IMAX Theatre at the New England Aquarium

If you turn away from the Second Pay Toilet That Might Not Exist Because It Is Not On the Harborwalk Map, you’ll see the New England Aquarium and its trapezoid-y off-grey box that houses their IMAX Theatre.

Don’t you have to have a ticket to enter the aquarium? Of course you do.

Keeping that in mind, I make my way over to the IMAX Theatre entrance. There’s a sign here that reads “TICKET REQUIRED FOR ENTRY”—okay, sure—I open the door and make my way to the attendant who ostensibly will take my ticket that is required for entry. And for the sixth time today, I begin my recitation. As I approach the end of my prepared remarks, the attendant tells me “Sure, you can use the bathroom. It’s upstairs via those stairs behind you.”

Clean and commodious this bathroom is—and by this point, I actually need to use it.

There are more public bathrooms to talk about—there are always are.

We’ll talk about those another time.

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theurbanologist · 3 years

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“It’s Actually Baking Soda”

Dusk is going into its final minutes as I see two figures in white perched on ladders next to the Picasso.

This is something I’ve never seen before, not ever never. I’ve walked by the Picasso in Daley Plaza hundreds of times, seen it almost as many times in the Blues Brothers, and wandered around it during Christkindlmarket, but never have I ever seen two figures in white doing——something or other?—— to the Picasso.

I approach a man wearing a black face mask who appears to be a supervisor. I tap him on the shoulder as it is quiet loud and—

“You want to know what’s going on I bet. Ha, folks come around all the time when this happens. We’re cleaning the Picasso for the first time since COVID started. You know, when the riots and all that stuff happened last summer some people put graffiti all over the Picasso. Some of it got cleaned up, but we have to get back here to clean it up a bit more. It happens at night because it generates a lot of material—I mean, the cleaning process generates a lot of material. Not the workers.”

He laughs again and says something in the direction of the two figures in white. I can’t hear what he says and I’m guessing they don’t hear him either.

“What do they clean the surface with?”, I ask.

“Oh, yeah—that’s funny you ask—most people just assume it’s water. I don’t know why. That material is not going to respond to water. It’s actually baking soda—but, you know——not like Arm & Hammer. That’s why we do it at night. It blows all over the place.”

I look at the cover of my phone. It is covered in a fine particulate matter.

I thank the supervisor and walk on, thankful that I’ve seen something I’ve never seen before in Chicago.

A true first

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theurbanologist · 3 years

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Hey, Want More Words?

After a few years of my newsletter, I’ve decided to join the world of Patreon.

The time felt right and I’d love it if you’d join me over here.

$10 a month and you can be Urban(e) Royalty.

I’m looking forward to having you join me.

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theurbanologist · 3 years

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On Charleston’s King Street, You Can Get a Bomb Pop---And Some Advice

On Charleston’s King Street, you will find the calming Blue Bicycle Books. It is a refuge of books with employees selections prominently displayed (The Preppy Handbook, anyone) and a selection of works by the late Pat Conroy, autographed by the man himself.

Why would you ever leave such a refuge?

What other nearby business could draw you away from elegantly signed copies of The Great Santini?

Bomb Pops, my friends.

This traveling van sits in a parking lot immediately north of this repository of elegantly bound books—it is hard to miss, with its blaring music and a menu that promises gourmet wine pops, jello shots, and four flavors of foot-long triple shots.

I hear the siren call of Ludacris’s “What’s Your Fantasy” and as I step up to the open service window, the line “I WANNA LICK LICK LICK YOU FROM YOUR HEAD TO YOUR TOES” is punctuated by these words:

FIRST CUSTOMER OF THE DAY LET US GET THIS THING STARTED BIG GUY

This invitation slash declaration is the loudest voice I’ve heard in months from any single flesh and blood human being—it is both refreshing and terrifying.

“Hey, this is great. What do you have that is less sweet?”

HAHAHAHA THAT IS NOT THIS BOOZE VAN BUT IF I HAD TO SAY IT WOULD PROBABLY BE THE LEMON DROP

“Okay, I’ll take a Lemon Drop”

It looks like the long frozen novelty from my childhood and I ask him “How is this legal? Can you drink on the street in Charleston?”

NO YOU CANNOT SIR BUT THIS IS A FROZEN FOOD PRODUCT SO THERE YOU GO. YOU ARE LUCKY THAT THIS IS NOT THE REGULAR SPRING BREAK BECAUSE WE WOULD NOT HAVE THE CHANCE TO TALK THIS LONG. I WOULD HAVE TO MOVE YOU ALONG

“I’m glad we’re talking—I was here last year in March and things have changed. I mean, well, more face masks. Folks seem to be enjoying themselves out here.”

YES THEY ARE AND YOU SHOULD ENJOY THAT LEMON DROP. LISTEN IF YOU DID NOT GO LAST TIME YOU SHOULD GO TO FORT SUMTER ON THE FERRY. YOU WILL LEARN A LOT AND THE RIDE IS OKAY——BUT YOU CAN ONLY DRINK ALCOHOL ON THE WAY BACK NOT THE WAY THERE. MAYBE YOU CAN HIDE A LEMON DROP IN YOUR BAG.

“I think I’ll be okay—you know, I’m sorry—what’s your name?”

MY NAME IS DENNIS THE MENACE

“Okay Dennis, I’m Max. What should I do while I’m back? Fort Sumter is on the list, I’m thinking a couple of house tours——“

OH NO NO NO THOSE HOUSE TOURS ARE JUST ALL APPS NOW. WHO WANTS TO GO INSIDE AN OLD HOUSE AND LOOK AT YOUR PHONE? THAT IS NOT AN EXPERIENCE THAT IS JUST BEING ON YOUR PHONE. YOU NEED TO STAY OUTSIDE

“Dennis, where can I do that?”

“WELL PEOPLE LIKE RAINBOW ROW BUT I WILL TELL YOU IT LOOKS BETTER IN PICTURES ON INSTAGRAM. DEFINITELY WALK BY AND THEN JUST WALK UP AND DOWN BROAD AND WATCH THE PEOPLE. I WOULD SAY YOU SHOULD ALSO TAKE THE FERRY TO PATRIOTS POINT. I GUESS YOU COULD SEE THE USS YORKTOWN BUT EVEN IF YOU DON’T IT IS A GOOD PLACE TO BE OUTSIDE

“That sounds great. What about a place for a drink?”

DEFINITELY GO TO BURNS ALLEY. IT IS JUST AROUND THE CORNER THERE AND MY BUDDY RECORDS A PODCAST ON SUNDAYS. IT IS A THERAPY PODCAST BUT IT IS BETTER THAN ANY THERAPY I KNOW OF (Pauses to acknowledge friend walking across the other side of King Street) YEAH IT IS CALLED CHEAPER THAN THERAPY AND IT IS CHEAPER THAN THERAPY. BURNS IS GREAT AND THEY HAVE OTHER BELLS AND WHISTLES BESIDES JUST COLD BEER THEY HAVE GOOD CONVERSATION AND LOUD MUSIC——PUNK BANDS PLAY THERE BUT I CANNOT REMEMBER WHICH NIGHT OR MAYBE IT IS MORE THAN ONE NIGHT. WE HAVE A LINE FORMING BEHIND YOU SO HOW ABOUT THAT LEMON DROP?

Yes, I’d like that Lemon Drop and THANK YOU DENNIS.

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theurbanologist · 3 years

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Talking with Kevin as the train goes DUNK A DUH

DUNK A DUH DUNK A DUH DUNK A DUH.

Repeat.

“Hey, do you know what the sounds are all about?”

It’s the young man sitting in front of me——he’s wearing a face covering with the words “BLUES POWER” on it.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you”, he says.

No, it’s not a bother—we’re in a pandemic, sure——I desperately miss those train talks, those over-the seat conversations, so thank you—

“What’s your name?”, I ask.

“Kevin. This is my first train trip. I’m headed up to Kingstree to see my mom. I’m not really used to anything on board. Is there food?”

When someone asks me “Is there food?” on Amtrak, I usually have a baroque soliloquy on the recent removal of prepared food items, the controversy years ago about taking off china, but I demur and reply “Yes, there is food. Three cars up. But I should warn you that they are already out of a few food items, including the cheese pizza.”

I am doing a good job dialing it back because I also want to tell him that isn’t it interesting that the train, which left Miami at 8:10AM and oh look, it’s only 3:30PM or so, and they are already out of this Lunch Menu Staple and isn’t that odd Kevin?

Oh yes, I forgot to tell you—the young man’s name is Kevin.

I dial back my urge to Read the Amtrak Menu Riot Act And Complete Historical Outline and instead answer his questions about the DUNK A DUH DUNK A DUH sounds.

“Well, that’s the train in motion, the seats rocking back and forth while bumping metal parts and plastic parts and sometimes there is a loose tray table. Sometimes this loose tray table will fall down and hit something else and then you’ll hear another entirely different sound.”

“Okay, that makes sense.” Kevin looks puzzled and lifts an eyebrow. “But I watched these YouTube videos of trains in France. They took you inside the seating area and I didn’t hear any noises like that. I wish we had trains like that here.”

Kevin, that’s a much longer conversation.

Maybe after the pandemic.

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theurbanologist · 3 years

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Back at the Bar

As I wait to be seated at the Tampa Bay Brewing Company, I wonder—

Am I doing the right thing?

Is this okay?

Am I okay?

I haven’t sat at a bar—like, you know, I mean, belly up to the bar, grab a bar stool, slide that chair over, or hey, come on over and lean with me in over a year.

What is this thing, to be back at the bar, sitting down near another person.

The bartender waves me over in the out-of-doors to the completely empty bar. Three sides with a service entrance here in the Centro Ybor, the commercial heart of Tampa’s Ybor City, if not its culinary heart. Its culinary heart, in case you were wondering, happens to be the Columbia Restaurant, a few blocks down the way at North 22nd and 7th Avenue East.

Okay, it’s more like a right ventricle.

Whatever.

I profusely explain my circumstances to the unsuspecting bartender—

“Hey, I hope this is okay—you know it all feels so weird—just to be back at the bar—is this okay? It is just so weird to sit at the bar. No one is here, so I hope you don’t mind. I’m just trying to do the right thing.“

[Pause]

“It all feels, you know—like a bit sensual to be at the bar, like forbidden.”

Oh my god, oh my god, I just told this female bartender that it FEELS A BIT SENSUAL TO BE AT THE BAR. Please don’t call the Hillsborough County Sheriff’s Department on me—I think they might have miniature bazookas on their utility belts—they sure seem to have a heckuva lot on there, jeez.

“Ha, you’re good—you’re up from north, I guess? I know they have had a lot of shut downs and so on up there. People around here—well, you’ve been out probably, you see what they do or don’t do. Feels like you can’t really tell with some people. Oh, listen—let’s talk beer—do you like hazy IPAs?

I think to myself in an inner monologue that is so inner it is EXTRA sotto voce—do I like hazy IPAS? What’s hazy? What’s an IPA? What it is to be at a bar so close to another person DAMN THE QR CODES and have them ask what is—“

She interrupts my stuck-at-the-station-train-of-thought: “Listen, I will get you a taste and you can see what you think.

What I think?

I think what now?

It is just good, albeit a bit odd, to be back at a bar. It feels like a small luxury returned to life—here I am, back at a bar, with no one else around.

I never imagined anything could feel so good.

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theurbanologist · 3 years

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A Smoky Trip To Florida

As I’m reading an email with the subject line “Ways We’re Keeping You Safe On Your Upcoming Trip”, a text message comes through on my phone that reads “Prep for changes to the travel experiences before your upcoming flight to Tampa, FL (TPA)

While I’m switching my attention to the text message, another email arrives with the subject line “Time To Prepare For Your Trip”. I get it—we’re in a pandemic and airlines want to keep us safe and I want to be safe and I do want to know we are all hopefully keeping safe together.

I mean, we were never in this “together”, were we? It’s just a snappy catchphrase to ignore the depths of difference, the inevitable chasm of socioeconomic inequality, and other bits and pieces that define the Human Condition.

Yes, I will wash my hands, yes I will wear at least one face covering, and yes, I will ABS (Always Be Sanitizing).

And then I remember——I’m going to Florida.

Miami Beach has spring breakers gone wildest and the state has been riding high on a wave of COVID infections for weeks. It’s a tough time for a state that many people love to hate.

Personally, I don’t hate Florida. There are parts of Florida I love—the Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge, Tampa’s Hyde Park neighborhood, and Ichatucknee Springs.

Listen, I didn’t always love Florida—a bit of personal history shall follow.

As a little kid growing up in Madison, WI, I didn’t know much about Florida. I saw ads for Walt Disney World on TV and I knew that oranges grew there. That’s about it. Also, my grandfather lived near the Homestead Air Force Base in south Florida. It was the impetus for my very first Sunshine State experience.

In 1984, the Grinnell family was not able to get on a plane to Florida. Too expensive and my dad does not like to fly——scratch that——will not get on a plane. Could we have driven? Maybe. Isn’t that the Great American Dream? Get in a car and travel that holiday road, replete with adorable photo-ops, piquant roadside attractions, and sampling local cuisines.

Nope, it didn’t go down like that either.

The preferred long-distance mode of transportation was to get all aboard on Amtrak. We usually did take trips from Columbus, Wisconsin to Seattle to visit my mom’s people back in Washington. The Empire Builder was our playground for almost two and a half glorious days. What a joy it was to look out the window, crawl under the seats, sleep, read a bit, then look out the window.

Such a journey to the Sunshine State via train was impossible by this point. As such, we booked passage on Greyhound to Miami——if memory serves (and I’ve try to excise this trip from my mind), it was a trip that took about a day and a half.

My dad was pleased as there would be no flying involved. I had never been on a bus ride longer than 20 minutes at this point, so I had no idea what it would be like. No visions from film, children’s public TV programming, books, or Saturday morning cartoons.

What a terrible thought.

A cartoon where the protagonist goes on a long distance bus ride.

I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.

I do remember one thing distinctly about the start of this trip. Upon boarding the Greyhound, the driver went through a seemingly long list of prohibited activities that made me wonder if he hadn’t slipped in a few items from the Bill of Rights, thereby infringing on some of our Basic Freedoms. At the conclusion of this long recitation, he concluded thusly: “You’ll be glad to know this bus has two sections: A non-smoking section and a smoking section”

Even at the tender age of 8, I knew from my dad’s constant smoking that these noxious fumes do not, can not, and will not respect a so-called “section”. Smoke goes where it wants, sneaks under doorways, snuggles into your nostrils, and inhabits your clothing with a persistence that rivals the viral online marketing strategies in Today’s Times.

Needless to say, my dad was most pleased with this arrangement.

It was the thing that I remember most about my first trip to Florida.

A smoke filled bus with a so-called “non-smoking” section.

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