A Slaven-Certified Guide to the Midwest- Part 2

It’s traveling season! As we kick off the busy autumn months, we may experience lags and disruptions in our regular blog publishing schedule. This post is one of them! Last weekend, we took a Slaven-certified trip to three Midwest states.

What makes a roadtrip Slaven-certified? Well, it must involve at least one Slaven (duh). The involvement of Slavens often leads to side effects such as breakneck schedules, early mornings, at least one mishap, and lots of fun. Our roadtrips often read like a choose-your-own-adventure story. Like this one! 

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Featured photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/h2hFSdfqKdtpqCsa6

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Day 3: A Big Shiny Bean

You’ve made it to the Windy City on your Slaven-Certified roadtrip! Your feet are probably sore. You’ve sweated a lot (the humidity has been KILLER). But don’t worry, there are quite a few more adventures left in store! 

Look up at the sculpture you stand in front of. Its official name is the Cloud Gate, but nobody calls it that. You, like every other person, call it the Bean. You raise your camera to take pictures, transfixed by the giant mirrored sculpture reflecting the skyscrapers beyond. Only in Chicago!

Retrieve your car from the parking garage, where you are scandalized to learn that your fee is $41 for less than an hour of parking. Navigate the Chicago traffic to the Field Museum. Upon attempting to park, you find the lot blocked off. There is a Chicago Bears pregame across the street, and the tailgating fans have claimed the museum parking lot for their own. You now must choose: will you return to the expensive parking garage, or risk parking on the street?

You choose the street. Your only option is several streets away from the Field Museum. Park your SUV and attempt to figure out the parking meter system. It’s more complicated than you thought it would.

Speedwalk for 23 minutes to get to the museum. Ignore the sweat dripping down your face and focus instead on the dinosaurs you’ll undoubtedly see at the museum. Old reptile bones make anything worth it. Stop for a quick picture of a huge, majestic water fountain on the way, because the scenery is just perfect. Try not to imagine how good that water would feel if you went swimming in it. 

You made it to the Field Museum! Scurry quickly up the marble stairs to retreat from the sun. It’s cool inside the museum, literally and figuratively. The towering skeleton of a brachiosaurus casts you in its shadow as soon as you walk in. Just what you had hoped for! 

Feel your problems dwindle away as you drift amongst the exhibits. Taxidermied deer, giraffes, lions, and birds surround you so entirely that you may as well be at the zoo. Feel yourself shrink as you enter an immersive display about soil ecosystems. Whisper as you tiptoe through an Egyptian mummy’s tomb. Ponder towering totem poles as you pass by models wearing modern African fashion. The museum transports you to dozens of worlds. When you finally leave the museum, you aren’t sure which world is yours anymore.

Eat lunch in a Wendy’s, where chicken-themed party decorations dangle from the ceiling. A man sleeps at a table nearby, his head retracted into his sweatshirt like a turtle. Don’t ask questions. It’s Wendy’s. 

Slowly circle the 93rd floor of a skyscraper, where floor-to-ceiling windows provide a 360-degree view of the entire city. Not feeling the thrill? Stand on a platform that juts out from the side of the skyscraper. Better hold on tight! The platform tips you forward until you hover 30 degrees above the street. Your stomach plummets. That’s a longggg way down. 

Diminish your childhood memories with a Ferris Wheel ride that far exceeds the county fair. Air-conditioned carriages lift you high above the Navy Pier, providing views of the turquoise Lake Michigan and countless skyscrapers. Looks like a storm might be brewing in. 

Outrun the storm with several hours of driving to Indiana Dunes National Park. Swat away an obnoxious amount of gnats as you slide down sandy trails. The sunset is a quiet one, but you don’t mind. It’s nice to be away from the city.

Day 4: Sandy Toes and Trash

You’ve made it to your last day of a Slaven-Certified roadtrip! Good for you! Are you worn out yet?

Wake up early, because sleeping in is never an option on a Slaven-Certified roadtrip. Roll your suitcase into the hotel lobby and eye the coffee machine. Do you risk it? Better not. You’ve got many hours on the road today.

Beat the crowds to an empty Indiana Dunes Parking Lot. You’re so early that the visitor center isn’t even open yet. A man with a dog approaches you. “Excuse me, do you know how I pay for my parking?” Ponder his question thoughtfully. He’d pay at the visitor center, but since they aren’t open, that’s not an option. You shrug. He shrugs. “Come on,” he tells his dog, “let’s go home.” Thirty minutes later, you see the man playing with his dog on the beach. Must have changed his mind.

Step onto the boardwalk and stare at the dunes with astonishment. It’s not the sandy rolls or Lake Michigan that you’re gawking at. It’s the trash. Beach chairs amble like broken headstones, marking the plots of deserted beachgoers. Sand toys lie forgotten in the sand. Tents thrust twisted limbs into the air. It looks as if a disaster happened and everyone left the beach at once. In reality, the disaster was only the close of weekend partying on the beach. The scene is jarring.

A park employee drives a Gator up the boardwalk. He slowly disembarks and begins loading the trash into the back. “Is it always like this after a holiday weekend?” you ask him. He looks around, unperturbed. 

”Oh, it’s like this every weekend. Fourth of July is the worst though. I had to take four trips in the Gator just to get the trash pile loaded up. And that was even with piling bags on the roof.” The man swings two bags atop the roof, demonstrating his point. You wonder how the cumbersome pile doesn’t fall off.

Shuffle, slide, and stomp through the sand for a while. Marvel at the thick forest growing atop the sandy dunes. Swat at some more bothersome bugs. It’s a fascinating landscape at Indiana Dunes. It’s a beach, but it’s a temperate forest, but it’s a wetland. How do you grow in this much sand? you ask the oaks. The oaks don’t answer.

Butterflies flit around brilliant hibiscuses. Trumpeter swans preen from across the swamp. An airplane drones overhead. Far away, nearly out of view, the Chicago skyline disguises itself in haze. Is this an urban park like Cuyahoga National Park or Gateway Arch? Is this a rural park? The question puzzles you. It shouldn’t. The dunes were here long before the cities were. All land is natural, pristine, and perfect. It’s the encroachment of people that alters them. 

Near the parking lot, a picnic shelter has been diminished to ashes. Four lonely poles stand empty-handed, deprived of the roof they once supported. The city partners have struck again, it seems. You resolve to never do the same.

Drive for hours through the Midwest. Admire the thick bean fields and tall cornfields. There is no disrespect for the “boring” Corn Belt in your car. The callouses on your hands testify to the hard work required to raise a crop. Your garden waits at home, faithfully watered by a loving mother. You know, intimately, the unique challenges of the Midwest. You know and you love. There’s no place you’d rather be. It’s home.