Faith and Finding My Way in Chicago

Google maps is the most unreliable narrator I know.

Last week I traveled to Chicago for a work conference. Before I left, my coworkers convinced me to take the L from O’Hare to downtown. I traveled in with a colleague, and we felt pretty safe at 9 am on a Wednesday navigating the train and walking to the hotel.

Fast forward to Friday. My colleague left earlier, which meant I needed to navigate the trip home alone. I rarely travel alone. I’ve never lived alone. I hate eating alone. To combat my aversion to being alone, I made a new friend with a similar flight time. We planned to take the L back together, yay!

Until she bailed on me Friday morning.

As the last conference speaker wrapped up with a dozen takeaways from the past two days, I pondered my choices. Do I risk walking through downtown Chicago to the L and riding the train alone, or call an Uber?

If you said Uber, you’d be right. That’s what I should have done, but it is not, in fact, what I did. The L was less than $5. Uber started at over $50. I was traveling on work dollars, but I’m still a cheapskate.

The conference ended, and I started out for the train station. The sun shone on my good fortune. The people of Chicago filled the streets of downtown to enjoy the pleasant weather. No one seemed to notice the woman dragging a suitcase through the city. Maybe it's not an uncommon appearance.

Google offered me directions, but they did not match the way I arrived. I backtracked our route from Wednesday and connected with the Google maps walking line.

All good.

Except I couldn’t find the entrance to the Blue Line to O’Hare. I stood where Google promised me the entrance was, however, no entrance appeared. It’s like the magic staircase in Harry Potter.

Nope. My stubborn commitment to the L strengthened. I’m a full-grown adult. I CAN navigate an unfamiliar city. creeping closer.

Call an Uber now?

Nope. My stubborn commitment to the L strengthened. I’m a full-grown adult. I CAN navigate an unfamiliar city.

Right?

A young woman stood at the crosswalk next to me. I tried to mask the worry in my voice.

“Do you know where to get on the Blue Line?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s just a little bit that way. There’s construction, but you’ll see the sign.”

My suitcase clacked along the sidewalk. The scent of fries and burgers reminded me I had skipped lunch to make my flight. he sun. A line of people crowded the sidewalk.

The Blue Line?

No.

My suitcase clacked along the sidewalk. The scent of fries and burgers reminded me I had skipped lunch to make my flight.

Barriers and scaffolding crowded the sidewalk ahead. Just like the kind Chicago lady said.

Finally, the Blue Line sign appeared.

I pushed. Neither the turnstile nor my bag budged. I had lost made it. One tap and the green light signaled me ahead. I shoved my suitcase through the turnstile, but it struggled against the bar and blocked my way.

I pushed. Neither the turnstile nor my bag budged. I had lost made it.

And that’s how I ended up following a stranger through the subway of Chicago. ht behind. “Blue Line for O’Hare?”

“Yes.”

Pretty sure my suitcase and dumbfounded country girl face gave it away.

“Follow me.” He hurried ahead.

Lord, please let this man be from You.

And that’s how I ended up following a stranger through the subway of Chicago.

“Right side goes to O’Hare.” He motioned that direction and went on his way.

The train squealed to a halt a minute later. I tucked myself into a seat and checked the time. Two hours and fifteen minutes until my flight left. (Here's my picture after I settled onto the train.)

Riding the L by myself

When I made it to O'Hare, security even let me keep the hummus snack cup I had snagged from the conference. #winning

And I arrived home in plenty of time to prepare for the 7 9th grade girls staying with us for DNOW weekend.