©2010 Chicago Tribune/Alex Garcia
I’m having a love – hate relationship with Lake Street. They say love is a verb. You choose to spend quality time with someone, or you don’t. Technically, then, we’re living life together. But oh, is this dysfunctional. With the insane amount of traffic on the Eisenhower – special sympathies to Elmhurstians, Hillsiders and my friends and family out west- I’m looking for shortcuts. And I gravitate to Lake Street like a lovesick motorist. I love the long stretches of road with synchronized green lights. The swooning canopy of the elevated train and its cinematic streams of light. The sweet pathways into lower Wacker and the Tribune parking lot. It just feels right. But what’s not to love? The white-knuckled driving as you whip past the train support structures only a few feet away, knowing many motorists have died there. The unpredictable motorists who try to speed past everyone using the right lanes on the other side of the supports. The oncoming motorists who have an inordinate amount of power over your sense of safety in that gauntlet. Motorists coming from the north and south who you pray have had plenty of sleep, since you have little foresight at several intersections. Floating pedestrians who glide into the street against the light and return your incredulous glance with an expression that says, “Just do me the favor”. My head says one thing, my heart another. But for the sake of my kids, I need a better detour. I’m open to suggestions…