Chicago is the Star Trek slide of doors, the voices of train angels, the racket of distant thunder (every four to ten minutes). Chicago goes from underground to street to sky to train to train to sky to street to under the ground again. Chicago is three flights of stairs, no matter where you want to go. Chicago is elevators everywhere: elevators on the El, elevators in the grocery store, elevators that skip 45 floors and then slow down.
Yeah, that’s how I remember it.