Can’t TELL May babies what to do!
Wednesday was perfect. From the moment we left my house to the time we made it to the lakefront, everything fell into place. As it always does.
On the 35th St. bus, the first seat behind the driver was open, neatly allowing us to stow my picnic basket near our feet. Upon arrival at 35th/Cottage Grove, the lovely driver told us how to get to the beach. As Ange and I waited at the corner for the light to change, the bus driver honked back at us, kindly telling us she remembered that the beach was under construction. She directed how to get to the next beach at 39th by crossing the bridge/following the path.
As we blindly continued our journey, we had our doubts, but realized that we just had to trust the guides the universe had given us, and we eventually made it. Somehow, the time-space continuum warped and we ended up at 41st (45th?) street beach, but nonetheless it was peaceful and devoid of douchebag yuppies and loud-mouthed hoodrats.
Every person we encountered on the way was happy and acknowledged our positive energy and reflected that back to us— as happens more often than not. Peace.