via goodfreephotos.com
Many of those who dwell in high rises in the heart of big cities like to brag about our scenic views.
Not me. I would brag if I could but my Chicago apartment is on the second floor and my scenic view is of a parking lot across the street. Boooooring. I’ve lived here nearly twenty-five years and the view hasn’t changed.
I used to consider it a blight—another slab of blacktop. But recently I’ve come to treasure my view. That’s because, a few months ago, a “For Sale” sign suddenly appeared on the parking lot fence. My heart sank! I’ve seen those signs on parking lots around the city quite a bit in recent years. That’s how the descent into hell begins. A parking lot is sold, and before you can blink, the spot is occupied by a high rise tower full of tiny, rip-off-priced apartments.
I checked out one of those towers out recently. They’re not hard to find around here. Just close your eyes and throw a rock and you’ll hit one. This one looks like a giant, silver cigarette lighter. It was built on a parking lot that was much smaller than the one across the street from me. A one-bedroom, 700-square-foot apartment in this building rented for $2,800 a month, not including utilities.
Some mayoral task force must have concluded that there is a critical shortage of tiny, rip-off-priced apartments that must be rectified immediately.
These places are popping up like menacing toadstools, at a fast and furious pace. Down the block and around the corner are three such warts, all erected on what used to be parking lots.
What’s this all about?
All I can figure is that the mayor must have put together an emergency task force to address the housing crisis in the city and that task force concluded that there is a critical shortage of tiny, rip-off-priced apartments that must be rectified immediately.
I never thought I’d become a parking lot preservationist. But there seems to be no stopping this runaway construction train. It will flatten us all! Someone will inevitably snatch up the precious parking I overlook. And it will be replaced by one of those gaudy behemoths.
I’m so sorry, dear parking lot, that I took you for granted and made fun of you. If I must choose between blights, I choose you! I know someday I‘ll really wish I could have you back. But wait! The “For Sale” is now gone! What does it mean? Is the sale off and thus the view I’ve come to adore so much will be preserved? Or was the lot sold and thus construction will soon begin?
I suppose I could go to City Hall and check some public record and find out for sure. But do I really want to know? Sometimes, it’s best for our mental health if we can delude ourselves for just one more day.
Each morning (or afternoon) when I rise, the first thing I do is look out and check the vital signs of that sweet, glorious, life-affirming parking lot. It appears to still be functioning as a parking lot. Cars come in and out. I don’t see any bulldozers.
So all is well, at least for today.