Around 4 PM, I walked into Mariano’s to pick up oranges, some vegetables, and a bottle of wine for my spouse, who would be spending the weekend suffering from a cracked crown. On my way to the store, there was scattered evidence of what was to come, but it really wasn’t snowing. After battling the self-check out machine, individually scanning thirty cartons of Chobani yogurt and an untagged onion, I headed for the exit, only to find the ground covered in snow. In just thirty minutes, over an inch of snow had fallen. When I returned home, I ate two strawberry yoghurts, contemplated the cold, and packed my camera bag. I decided to head to the heart of the city’s shopping district by bus, opting for the 151 local because the next 146 express bus was due in 26 minutes. It is safer to move around the city by bus during a snowstorm, but even the articulated 151 fishtailed as we plodded along, passing through Lincoln Park.

The plows and salters were out, but Michigan Avenue still was slick with the snow cover, now imprinted with tire tracks. The thin, Friday evening traffic was moving faster than it should have been, which meant pedestrians, if they were smart, gave way to cars turning into crosswalks. There were no guarantees that they would not slide through the walkway, mowing down the groups of two and three who braved the slick walkways.

After an hour, my exposed red, wet, and definitely chilled righthand offered evidence that Lake Michigan was cooling the air before the winds moved the chill down the avenue. At that point, I headed into Water Tower Place, looking for a Venti Decaf Americano. I wasn’t thirsty, but I knew the cup would warm my hands. Back out I went, but at this point there weren’t a lot of people out and the snow had petered out. I headed home after my two hour adventure for a glass of red wine and scrambled eggs.

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