My boarding time had inched close enough to the present that I began to sweat a little. It was only after I had to remove a pair of shoes from my oversized travel bag at the check-in counter that I became nervous.
“See, I told you taking out the boots would help cut enough weight,” my dad said as he grabbed the pair of shoes I removed from the large purple bag. I rolled my now 50-pound bag through that little section of the airport check-in counter. I just kept throwing in extra stuff that I thought I would need during the summer abroad without thinking about the overage charges. Nearly everything in my room was able to fit in that mobile monstrosity. I had just enough time to get rid of a perfectly good water bottle and take a deep breath before stepping into the back of the airport security line.
A Mountain Woman’s Thoughts On Getting Laid Off During A Pandemic
It happened slowly, and then all at once. One moment I was completely fine hiking with my friends in the woods after weeks of recovering from a bout of actual flu and pneumonia, and then the next I’m stuck in the house again for fear of dying from a new illness—Covid-19. I had started a new job the week of the beginning of the stay at home order in the middle of March in California.
I was completely fine that week, but then something happened when they closed the hiking trails to minimize the spread of the Coronavirus. I couldn’t think or figure anything out until they opened them up again with social distancing guidelines. It all clicked again when I went back out into the woods, this time with a mask on my face. When many offices planned to reopen their doors and end working from home, I was laid off.
Chilling gusts of air blew in from Lake Michigan into the “Windy City” of Chicago as my good friend from college, my sister, and I made our way from the architecture tour boat to the shops along Navy Pier. It was then that I had heard, for the tenth time, that I had picked a terrible weekend to visit Chicago, Illinois—and I definitely realized that.
Temperatures dropped into the low 40’s, and at one point, when we were waiting on a platform to take the “L” across the city, it even began to snow. I quickly learned that the best time to visit the third largest city in the United States are not April through May due to the unpredictability of the weather, but actually in May or June and between September and October.
What I also learned was that Chicago is a beautiful and a fantastic city full of wonderful people, delicious food, gorgeous architecture, and several old and brand new friends that I hold dear to my heart. Continue reading “The Coldest Spring In Chicago”→