Here it is, the final week of our journey through Chicago. There are eight previous posts, so click these links if you need to catch up. [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8]
Part 9
With a sigh, I plopped down in 14F.
Even the short walk through L6 was hurting my feet, but now they could finally relax for a while. A comfy, starboard seat and a brief flight were all that separated me from long-awaited idleness.
The plane wasn’t terribly full, and I wondered if I’d have another friendly passenger for the ride home. Truth be told, I’m pretty sure air travelers come in two non-exclusive breeds: talkers and non-talkers. Non-talkers slap their headphones and/or sleep masks on the moment they’re settled on the plane, and I get that; everyone comes from somewhere, and you don’t know how stressful or eventful their day’s been. Maybe this is the only chance they get to chill out and veg. While I’m fine with not talking to my neighbor, I welcome chitchat. I had a lovely conversation with my seatmate on the way back from Washington, D.C. last year, and it’s always fun to hear where your neighbor’s off to.
As the cabin door slammed shut, though, I was given neither. 14D sat empty beside me, and that’s fine too. Last year, my round-the-world trek to Asia took me on six 1,000+ mile flights, and on four out of the six flights I didn’t have a direct neighbor. For the two transoceanic flights I had, this was an enormous blessing. I like idle banter, but I probably like an empty seat more.
With nothing inside to draw my attention, I turned to the window.
That Iberia flight’s still waiting for a pushback. Next to such a massive plane, our little Embraer 175 felt pretty unimportant.
We were on a short hold before pushing back ourselves, likely for the big A330 next door.
Picture doesn’t do it must justice; it’s a big one.
Shortly after it pushed back, an Alaska Airlines flight taxied into L8.
Might be the only major airline that still holds a state’s name. When I was in Portland last year, I saw a ton of Alaska flights, many of which were likely zipping off to Seattle instead of its namesake. This one probably came from Seattle, too.
We got the green light from ATC to push back, so we rolled back slowly and hooked a right onto the taxiway. Down we rolled as the engines spun up from idle.
We were a little fish in a big pond, that’s for sure. Nice to know, though, that a little regional connector still has a place in line at one of the world’s busiest airports.
We passed another terminal than curved onto the taxiway to take us to our runway, 22L.
About eleven minutes after our pushback, our Embraer hooked onto 22L, facing southwest, and the engines launched us forward.
The climb was clean, and what a view!
I’d planned this, facing the sunset and all, but this was a way better view than I was hoping for. As we went further south and further up, the sky only got clearer and the colors of the sunset more pronounced. The fasten seatbelt sign dinged, and the non-turbulent flight leveled off a few minutes later.
I pulled out my notebook to take note of the day and jot some notes. My UP band still clutched my wrist, but I’d wait until the absolute last minute to count and log my steps. My phone, which had a bit of battery left after its brief charge forty-five minutes earlier, entertained me for the rest of the way.
It got close to nine o’clock and, much to my surprise, it was still a bit light out.
Ten minutes later, the last rays of the sun still clung to the horizon. When I was a kid, I remember going out at the longest day of the year, around June 21st, watching the sunset, and noting the time. This was in Louisville, so I clocked the sun setting about 9:30, with what I perceived to be the last light of the day disappearing shortly before 10. Here we are, though, three months before that, and our high-altitude position and extreme western location in our time zone kept it light after 9:00, something I thought was unheard of before May. Small thing, I guess, but I kind of enjoy being proven wrong. If you’re proven wrong, you learn.
Right before the hour, our captain advised us that our descent had begun, and we could feel and see it as the lights of the ground grew closer. I’d flown this a dozen times on my flight simulator at home, but I was still lost on how and from what direction we were approaching, though I assumed we’d land on the opposite runway and in the opposite direction from the way we took off this morning. This’d put us on 17L, the shorter of SDF’s two main runways. This runway, and particularly this approach, sidles right next to the cell phone lot, and I’ll often go to the lot during my downtime and observe the planes that fly in. On a night as nice and clear as this one, I might see myself snapping long-exposure shots from the parking lot below as we cruise in for a landing. As a way to mirror this pastime, I prepped my phone to take my fourth and final aircraft movement of the day. We crossed over the Watterson Expressway, just a couple hundred feet above the highway when I hit record. Because it was dark, however, my phone could not adjust to the low light without using an irritating flash. By the time I’d turned off the flash, our extended gear hit the tarmac and the reverse thrusters were already engaged. Frustrated, I stuffed my phone back in my pocket and prepared to deplane. We’d landed almost fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. While O’Hare would still be bustling in the mid-evening, SDF was pretty quiet.
We docked and deplaned without issue. Down the jetway we go!
Welcome back, more like; I’d walked down a jetway here heading the other direction about 15 hours ago, but as I’m not used to being gone for such a short time, seeing that seen still offered the same “I’m home” relief as any long journey would.
American uses the end-cap gate, and we emerged from there, right near where I’d gotten on a B737 earlier that morning.
It and every gate had all but closed for the evening. Louisville’s last outbound flight usually leaves the gate no later than around 8:30 PM, so Louisville was only a destination for the rest of the night.
I followed the rest of the crowd, which made a beeline down Concourse B towards the baggage claim and the exit.
The lights were off, the barricades were lowered, and the majority of the airport had fallen back asleep, ready to wake up early the following day. The moving sidewalks still work long into the night, and I hitched a ride, grateful to not be lugging a heavy suitcase or bag that might make me trip on the other side. “Hi, Jack,” I muttered as the familiar voice repeated its warning overhead. While my feet had enjoyed a brief respite, they started getting sore again as I walked past the dormant TSA scanners.
Once I got landside, I saw the flight’s passengers disperse to the baggage claim carousel. For those of you who like to check a bag, I challenge you to try your next vacation without doing it. Having to hope and pray it’s there can be harrowing. You might think it’s tricky, but I hadn’t checked a bag on a solo trip in my life until my trip to Asia last year, and then only because I had to bring a suit for MBA-related events. And hey, most everywhere charges you for a bag these days, so it’ll save you some dough, too!
I made my way down the western escalator and into the parking garage, where the cold outside air slammed into me after emerging from the airlock at the far end of the tunnel.
The parking garage looked pretty cool in the dark, and it’s always matched up with the aesthetic that I associate with the airport, so I never mind walking through it.
On the other side, I dodged a passing car that was making its way to the exit and emerged onto the surface lot. While most people would have been smart enough to write down or just plain remember where they parked, I neglected to commit the brain power to doing that in the wee hours of the morning. I wandered for a little while, holding my key fob aloft and pressing the unlock button, hoping to see my little Volkswagen’s flickering tail lights respond. I wandered for about five minutes until…
There y’are! Not the best parking job to show off, but hey, it was a quarter to five when I did it.
I popped the door open, tossed my camera bag into the passenger seat, slammed the door, and just sat there for a minute. I watched my breath float through the undisturbed air in the car. I reached in my wallet for a ten-spot to pay for my parking, fired up the old Bug, and tootled up to the exit, bill in hand. With a smile and a thank you, I took my dollar change and swung over to grab a bite to eat before heading home.
After getting home and giving myself a chance to eat and recover, I plugged in my UP band to see how well I’d done.
Thirty-three miles! That’s a marathon and a quarter! That’s walking to Scottsburg, Indiana from my house! Although I tried to remember a day, I’m not sure I’ve ever walked that much in one 24-hour period in my life. And without a doubt, I’d never had that much fun walking as long a distance. I’d always considered thirty miles a person’s maximum to walk during a day, but this had that beat!
It was fun to look at the UP graph readout; you could tell the lulls I had in the day; the first one was the first flight, the second dip was my bus ride, the third break was my CTA ride to O’Hare, and the last one was my inbound flight back, with the final burst being the return to my car.
I weighed myself and I’d lost four pounds since the day before. My thighs had swollen where they’d slammed into each other 60,000 times. My feet were pulsing, even the next morning and Monday when I went back to work. I’d be out of commission for a few days, but it was worth it.
This was a real accomplishment for me; I’m not in awesome shape, so this proved that anyone with the drive to walk thirty-three miles can well enough do it. Get some comfortable shoes, stretch, and wear some Spanx to prevent thigh chaffing, and the world is your running track.
The walk proved to be an amazing experience, and I learned a ton about traveling today. I was blessed with exceptional luck, timely arrivals, and beautiful, albeit cold, weather. There were so many things that could have gone wrong, but none of them did. Everything was on-time, everything was where it was supposed to be, and any error during the day was my own fault, and I can fix those things.
Overall, I could think of three things I would change for my future walks based on this experience.
1. I needed a backpack.
Although I didn’t mention it much, I had to stuff a bunch of stuff in the camera bag, and having even just a cloth pack on my back would have made it easier. Moreover, carrying large weights on one shoulder meant that I had the side my camera rested on a lot. Carrying a backpack distributes the weight and frees up my hands so I don’t have to juggle multiple things while I extract my camera. Most airlines these days permit you a carry-on, which could be the backpack, and a small personal item, a designation that the camera bag fits.
2. The walk was a bit too ambitious.
It was fun, don’t get me wrong, but it was a hard walk. Looking back on how much I walked, I’d already walked twenty-four miles before I ever set foot in O’Hare, so planning to add another several miles (7.6 to be exact, I calculated it later), was really taxing on my body and mainly my feet. When every step hurts, it’s hard for the excitement of the trip to sustain you, and your internal monologue changes from “let’s explore every nook and cranny!” to “how far away is the nearest bench?” The fact that both Chicago at large and the airport walks were all exceedingly flat probably deserves a large amount of credit for my ability to withstand the pace and distance of the walk. If I’d done it again, knowing I had fourteen miles of airport to walk, I would have revised the non-airport walk down or prioritized my airport walking to not being so taxing.
3. Turn-by-turn directions are not advisable or helpful.
I should have learned this months ago, but traditional directions are often harder to follow in practice than they are as I comfortably browse Google Maps from my desktop. Instead, I think waypoints are a better way to go. If I know my mark is on such and such street at such and such a distance, I can take any number of routes to get there without having to worry about missing a turn. Then I’m looking at the directions less, but I’m also more free to wander down an alley without feeling the need to backtrack to stay on the planned route. I still end up taking detours, but not having to rework the plan on the fly would be nice, and some of the best things I find on a trip are things I don’t expect. To fully commit to the spontaneous Miles by Foot experience, this is a necessary step to take.
All that being said, there were three things that this walk positively proved.
1. Planning ahead and using public transit efficiently really helped.
A person who plans has two fears: their plan won’t work or their plan will be obsolete or pointless. In this case, both went right and I was rewarded for hours of research, mapping, and careful timing. I was never stressed about schedule, but I didn’t have tons of idling, either. My day was well thought out, and it paid out for my time’s investment.
2. Walking the airports was directly correlated with the positive travel experience.
While most people think that the idea of walking an airport ranges from unnecessary to an affront to the travel experience, it was essential to providing the fun, jetsetting feel we all want when we transit by air. Even though I was taking Louisville’s shortest, cheapest flight, exploring the airports truly completed the experience. I put down just as many miles outside of an airport as within one, and I wouldn’t change the balance at all, despite the strain it put on my feet. Assessing the right distance is one thing, but including the exploration of your airport as part of the journey is a necessary and fulfilling part of the trip.
3. Overwhelmingly, this travel format works.
If you’ve just got a day and you want to see as much of a city as you can, this is the best way to do it. You’re going to have a busy day and you will be tired at the end of it, but because we all have lives with family, work, and our other interests, being able to take a one-day excursion works logistically, provides an excellent opportunity to explore somewhere new, and it exercises your body and mind in a healthy, fulfilling way. Having succeeded at the first full-fledged, non-concessionary attempt at this kind of travel experience, I can safely say that this is by far the most enjoyable way I’ve ever employed to explore a city in such a short period of time. You get the full picture, even if it just seems like a snapshot on the outside.
One other benefit of this way to travel? It’s cheap! Here were my total expenses.
Total Cost for Trip
| |
Flight
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$163.20
|
Parking and Mileage
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$11.00
|
Food
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$17.47
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Public Transportation
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$7.50
|
TOTAL
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$199.17
|
That’s a day’s trip, including a commercial flight, for under $200. It’s amazing how inexpensive a trip can be when you’re not getting a rental car, a hotel, or pricey meals. Clearly the flight is the largest chunk of the trip. However, driving the six-hundred-mile round trip in my Volkswagen would have cost roughly $80.00 when you consider both car use and gas. As you probably don’t want to walk thirty-three miles and drive ten to twelve hours in one day, you’ll likely also need a hotel, which will raise the costs to rival or even surpass that of a cheap flight, so bear that in mind.
Chilly Chicago provided a great trip, complete with both expected and unexpected sights, sounds, and tastes. Mission accomplished!
As any traveler will tell you, though, our eyes are always on the horizon for our next trip. Where will our feet take us next?
Keep going –
Matt
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