Confessions of a city snob
By Trent Modglin

I guess I can admit it now, having been told it by so many people. I am a city snob. Officially.

I honestly believe that little good happens in the suburbs. If you want to have a good time, be entertained, get the most out of life, you have to be in the city. That’s all there is to it. It feels good to finally get it out there. If only I had a leather couch now.

I’ve developed this belief, or attitude if you will, gradually over the six-and-a-half years I have called Chicago home. I grew up in corn country, a little over an hour west of the city, and went to college at Florida State. My hometown was 4,000 people. My college was 30,000. My new adopted hometown is about 4,000,000, depending on how many illegal immigrants you count. And I’ve had no problems whatsoever adjusting to the drastic changes in environment. Chicago has a way of making everyone feel welcome.

I’ve lost a few friends — couples looking to start families mostly — to the suburbs over the years, and I can’t say that I like it. Granted, they have a yard bigger than 10 feet by 10 feet now, and a house instead of an apartment or condo, but still, seriously, is it worth it when you look at the big picture?

Name me a good bar in the burbs. Maybe you can come up with one, two, perhaps stretch it to a handful if you skip that morning meeting at the office and really think about it. But I can name you a handful of good bars on Lincoln, Clark or Damen alone.

Street festivals? In the suburbs, you have to drive 20 miles to find one of substance, and even then it probably boasts a band that should’ve hung up the guitars 20 years ago, when they still had a following they could be proud of. In Chicago, street festivals of all types pretty much come to you about every weekend in the summer. And the best bands play here, usually nothing more than a cab ride away.

Pizza? In the suburbs, the pizza joints are usually found in a little strip mall, next to a dry cleaners, liquor store and cell phone dealer. And they’re not really anything worth ordering, more like what you’d find in the grocer’s freezer, only more expensive. In Chicago, your neighbors may never talk to you again if they see Domino’s being delivered to your door. Close your eyes and point to a pizza place in the Chicago phone book, and there’s a good chance you’ll be telling people about it the next day.

You want unique stores to shop in rather than the monotony of a mall? A restaurant that’s not a chain? How about a museum? Activities galore, no matter the day or time? Sure, parking can be tough, but that’s to be expected when there are so many reasons to come in to where the big buildings are in the first place.

I could go on and on, coming up with reasons the city is more enticing than the suburbs, but I mainly just wanted to get this off my chest, that I am admittedly a city snob, and proud of it. Maybe I’ll reluctantly find my way to the burbs someday when it comes time to raise a family, or if I feel an overwhelming desire to buy a lawn mower. But I’ll have reservations about it for sure. No doubt long, lasting reservations. And tears. Lots of tears. Perhaps even a hostage situation.

Until next time, enjoy this third issue, which has everything from theatre to boxing to the band Sybris. It’s all about Chicago, just the way I like it.

Trent Modglin
Publisher
The Real Chicago
Trent@TheRealChicago.org

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