I was on the "El" this past Saturday, heading north on the red line from downtown. Soon after I got on the train, this family of five gets on.
Mom and dad were late-middle-age and they had their three kids with them who were probably late-teens, early twenties. The entire family had blond hair, straight teeth, and looked like a poster family for Deutsches Jungvolk or something.
I could clearly tell that they were from out of town.
Mom and daughter sat together, the two brothers sat side-by-side and dad sat by me.
Sure enough, he leaped up and began looking at the train map overhead, wondering where to get off.
After he sat down, I politely asked him if he needed any help finding anything. I'm from the South where we're nice 'n polite so I didn't want this squeaky-clean family thinking that all us city-folks were as rude and nasty as they might have been expecting. You know.
After explaining that they were from some small town in Michigan (see?) and were spending the day sightseeing in Chicago, he explained where he needed to go.
"We need to get off at Belmont," he said.
"It's just three more stops. Where are you going from there?"
"We're going to Halsted and . . . "
"The Blue Man Group, right?"
"Yeah! How'd you know? Have you seen them?"
"No, it's always full of tourists."
Ha ha ha.
So, I pointed them in the right direction when we got to Belmont and wished them well.
At least I think I gave them the right directions.
Either the blond family enjoyed The Blue Man Group and were able to tell their friends back home about their encounter with citified "avant garde" theatre (snicker!) or they've reached Des Moines by now.