Little Joys of Urban Life: A Tale of Two Lunchtimes

March 27, 2006:  Walk down the long, beige hall of the long, beige McOfficePlex in the beige western suburb, to the beige break room, to nuke a can of soup that was, if memory serves, beige (corn chowder).   Sit at cube, listen to the hum of the HVAC, dream of having oxygen in my brain, look forward to four hours of phone meetings capped with a forty-minute drive home.

 March 27, 2007:  Walk out the front door of the office onto a busy, downtown street.  Grab a sandwich and a newspaper, walk to the riverfront.  Grab a bench, read, eat, soak up the sun, feel the thrum of the traffic re-energize me, breathe, watch the river go by.  Walk back to the office, design stuff, look forward to my ten-minute commute home.

11 thoughts on “Little Joys of Urban Life: A Tale of Two Lunchtimes

  1. Will you be donating the $850 you aren’t wasting stuck in traffic to the DOT? We could avoid the gas tax hike.

  2. I can actually walk to a number of local restaurants from our office in the southwest suburbs. Even better, I can eat lunch and read a book outside on a picnic table in the small, tree-filled park that’s on company property, without having to deal with panhandlers, bus exhaust, and police sirens. Usually in complete solitude too.

  3. If only “the office” wasn’t code for “court ordered public service” it would be perfect.

  4. Mitch, the most amazing fact in this post is that you bought a dead tree edition newspaper.

  5. Chad,

    I know your office – it’s not the worst the burbs have to offer. But quit drinking what JB’s drinking – I saw nary a panhandler, and at the river smelled not a whiff of bus. Sirens? The sound of cops going to smack down ne’er do wells. Sounds like victory.  Solitude?  I’ve been single for seven years; I get all the solitude I need.  Bring the noise!
    Sarah,

    Hah! No, I grabbed an “Onion” from a street box. Freebie. Thought you knew me better than that!

  6. Chad: something tells me you could eat in the middle of Times Square in complete solitude.

  7. “something tells me you could eat in the middle of Times Square in complete solitude”

    AC describes himself on the streets of New York.

    Who would sit by someone with dirty clown shoes, a raggedy coat and greasepaint spread on his face?

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