Sitting in the park across from the Sears tower the other day. It is a pretty little park with great shade and comfortable hurricane chairs. cashing in on a break in the triple digit temps, I took a quick office break for a rest in the park. From here the view down Wacker Drive is dominated by towering office buildings that all but erase glimpses of the sky. Fantasizing, as I am prone to do, I imagined a huge, but friendly giant peeking from around the towers, his big round head hovering somewhere around the 40th floor. I wasn’t in a mood to imagine a terrible giant smashing through the downtown, but then I began to imagine how really difficult it would be even to be a friendly giant in downtown Chicago. I think it is some thing of a design flaw that the city really is not giant-friendly. I imagined that no matter how much he tried, ’cause he’s a good giant, he couldn’t help stepping on some people, and that all those smashed people would make it pretty slippery and treacherous for the giant. And as he inadvertently stepped on people he’d be like, “oh! Jeez, sorry!” And then some people would freak out and start screaming, which would hardly help the situation, and the giant would be trying extra hard not to step on people, but would step on more, or knock over a bus or smash a couple of yellow cabs, and then he’d be like “Oh my god, this is a nightmare!” And then the media would be like, “Giant Attacks Chicago!” and they’d call him evil or a terrorist or deranged or lumbering, which I think is a word giants probably really hate, because it just feeds a really negative body image. And then I think he would trudge off-which seems like another derogatory word to giants- through the suburbs where the Army and Marines would be waiting to shoot at him. And he’d be like, “It’s all a big misunderstanding, you guys!” And finally he’d just go up to Canada, where they have more tolerance for people who are different, but he’d still be haunted by that really awful day in Chicago.
It must be really hard to be a giant.