Jim Siergey: Modern Day Magellan

There’s this guy I know named George.

He’s one of those multi-talented creative folks–cartoonist, animator, painter, sculptor, musician.  He rides a bike and probably builds his own furniture and flies a sky-writer too, spewing a white cloudy frame over a sunset and signing his name.

I wouldn’t be surprised.

Recently, George had a big exhibit of his work displayed at The Belmont, a fancy place located on the corner of Belmont and Sheridan. In fact, George called the upcoming evening a “fancy-pants” opening.

I try my best to be a supporter of the arts and the folks who create art, so I got my pair of “fancy-pants” out of hibernation, and had them dry-cleaned, laundered and tailored. My wife did the same and with the both of us clad in our fancy…well, they’re actually black Levis…we set out to The Belmont.

Stating that parking is hard to find in that area is like informing the public that snow is cold. I drove around for nearly half an hour trying to find some sort of parking space that I could squeeze into. There was not a spare inch to be found.

I decided to head for the lakefront, just a block or two away, to see if I could park there.

The real Magellan — only in The Third City….

 

It was turning into a hazy, foggy evening and I wasn’t sure if the ramp to my right was the one to take (it was) so I turned left instead and found myself on Lake Shore Drive, heading north.

Unperturbed, I exited on Recreational Drive and planned to double back toward Belmont on the park road.

Being right next to the lake, it began to get a little foggier.  It had also been years since I had been on this particular stretch of park road so the ride was starting to feel a bit adventurous.

The Drive led me to a gate denying entry to the Waveland Golf Course parking lot. This blocked me from driving any further but to my right and down a bit of an incline, I saw what looked like another road.  I turned around and searched for a way to enter that suspected thoroughfare.

Despite the thickening mist, I was able to espy an opening.  I entered an area filled with trucks and cranes, stacks of pallets and girders and other large items of rust. The road, however, did continue on southward so, so did I.

What happened that night was surreal….

 

The gray of the pavement intermingling with the gray of the fog caused me to motor tortoise-like through the monochromatic darkness. It was so still and empty, I felt like I was in a different land.

Steady and unsurely, I ultimately reached the point where the road went no further.

It ended in a large parking lot-looking area except there were signs stating that cars parked here would be towed away. The place was void of cars and it seemed unlikely that a tow truck would meander along but I also didn’t know quite where I was.

I had no choice but to retrace my steps, er, wheel rotation. Back through the misty silence we traveled until we found ourselves once again in the area of trucks and cranes. But we could find no exit onto Recreational Drive.

I could see the Drive but could see no way to get there.

I backed up, I drove forward, I rode in circles, I drove in between and around the various stacks of objects—an outlet could not be discovered.

It was eerie. Were we in Brigadoon? The fog, the quiet, the absence of any other person or traffic, the sound of bagpipes softly playing in the distance over the moors, made it seem so.

Eventually, as my gas tank needle headed toward the big ol’ E, I found the outlet, barely discernible between a large dump truck and a towering pile of pallets. I broke on through to the other side and headed back northward to the Irving Park exit.

Despite not being a college graduate, I felt that I had given attending George’s opening the old college try.  Since my wife and I were out and about and clad in our fancy pants, we decided to ditch the art show idea and dine in one of Chicago’s many fine eateries instead.

As for George, I’m sure he will have another art exhibit and I will attend that one…as long as it’s held in a mini-mall with plenty of parking.

Editor’s Note: Jim‘s last post for The Third City was Etelvina Turns Ninety….

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