2024 04 17
How’s my driving? Not great! Chicago, Illinois. March, 2024. © Clayton Hauck
Arriving late to my airport-adjacent hotel on a quick work trip, I glance at my phone to see if any food options are still available. Everything closes soon. Luckily, there’s a decently-rated basic grill in the hotel next to mine so I drop my stuff and walk towards it. The parking lots are massive and dark. The hotel looms over the dark horizon but as I get closer it becomes apparent that the entire perimeter of the hotel property I am currently on is fenced in with no pedestrian access. I’m in one of these areas designed fully for car access only.
Instead of giving up and backtracking to go all the way around the complex, I mumble “fuck cars” to myself while scanning the area for any sort of evidence of human foot-based activity. One area back near the dumpsters in the corner is a bit more worn out that the rest with a small gap in between the mature evergreen trees, so I psych myself up to make it happen. As I’m cresting the jagged steel fence, I have a quick vision of catching my foot and falling headfirst into the parking lot cement and needing to come up with some kind of cover story when I meet with the client the following morning because there is no possible way to make this sound not insane should it go wrong.
Luckily, I make it across with only a small cut on my hand, evidence to show the server if the situation calls for a little desperate pleading to get the kitchen to stay open for one last order. Now that the right building is immediately in front of me, the next problem becomes apparent. While, yes, the grill I’m seeking is right on the other side of the wall, I’m now standing in the back lot of the next hotel complex with, again, zero pedestrian access aside from a few emergency only escape doors which I can’t enter. I have a some more thoughts about how much I hate cities designed fully to accomodate cars as I walk all the way around the building and inside, my journey now complete.
They’re still serving, although the menu is limited to four items. I order the house burger and think about how old we are getting as I watch Lebron James’ Lakers win a play in game and a consistent stream of people wander in looking for food themselves, most holding airline vouchers that seem to be as valuable as cash in these parts.
Now, I’m back on my hotel bed reviewing casting callbacks while typing out this monotonous story-of-my-night without any sort of lesson, purpose, or deeper meaning. Let’s land the plane, Clayton!
When airplanes aren’t falling apart mid-flight, modern air travel is a remarkable human achievement. Merely a few hours ago, I was back home in Chicago meeting with a rabbi about our upcoming wedding ceremony and now I’m hopping a fence in search of a cheeseburger in a city 700 miles away, while the most interesting thing in my afternoon wasn’t browsing the internet 35,000 feet in the sky, or riding the automated airport train, or moving through mid air at 580 miles per hour.
The most interesting thing was, upon leaving to walk back to my hotel, again getting stuck in this new hotel’s parking lot only to run into a security guard who told me the only way to exit on foot is in the exact opposite direction I needed to go. Fucking cars! Seeing my frustration, he asked where I was headed, to which I pointed up at the building right across the alley from where we were. He told me to go back into the hotel, cut down a hallway, and go through the doors marked Employees Only, then out the back exit. I’m not usually one to disobey the honor system no access warnings but given permission by the parking lot security guard, this was my ticket to adventure! Thanks Sonesta Atlanta Airport North for a solid burger, back-stage access, and a shortcut which saved me 6 minutes of walking which I could then sink into writing this remarkable retelling.
-Clayton
