Aggroculture
Track #11
“The view is amazing! You gotta go!”
I went
I showed up on a Sunday. A scheduled tour of Detroit’s Guardian Building. With its art deco features and massive size, this historic structure in The Motor City is quite beautiful. We met the tour guide in the lobby along with a couple dozen other sight-seers. Fun to be a tourist in your own town.
We got the low down of 1930’s Detroit, the banking industry, and architectural marvels.
Then we hit the elevators.
32 floors up, we went in groups of ten or so. The tour guide needed to scan his badge for each trip. Guess you need a reason to check out the view from above. This tour was the reason I suppose.
The elevator doors opened to a small corridor which opened to a big open room. Small windows surrounded us. I’m sure these windows don’t open. Feels a little stale. The pack splits off into tiny groups and flock to the windows. I didn’t move quick enough. I’ll wait. The plush carpet makes for a quiet space. People were whispering.
I finally got a window to myself. I could see American industry, traffic, bridges, Canada, other architectural wonders. It was hard to make out any people though. Couldn’t really hear anything apart from the tour guide and occasional chuckles from the fellow sight-seers when some lame-ass joke was cracked. Funny how when a group laughs, I’ll crack a smile – not even knowing what the hell they are laughing at. Pack mentality, I guess.
The tour guide started giving his wrapping-up signals and we all started to make our way back to the elevators. “Meet be back in the lobby!” he said.
When we reached street level, I snuck out the door and escaped the pack. The tour was enlightening but I was glad to be back on the street. Eye level with people, cars honking their horns, the greasy smells rolling out the doors of a Coney Island, gritty sidewalks and windows. This is what I want. The views from above remove all of this life, this reality, this beauty.
I light a smoke and cross the street. It’s hot today. People are sweaty, knocking back beers in bistro chairs just outside the doors of some bar. Music blares from cars cruising around with the windows open. A breeze picks up and sends some leaflets flying.
Get away from the pack. Open a window. Knock back a beer. Life is better at street level.
Vowel Pellet
Track #11
“The view is amazing! You gotta go!”
I went
I showed up on a Sunday. A scheduled tour of Detroit’s Guardian Building. With its art deco features and massive size, this historic structure in The Motor City is quite beautiful. We met the tour guide in the lobby along with a couple dozen other sight-seers. Fun to be a tourist in your own town.
We got the low down of 1930’s Detroit, the banking industry, and architectural marvels.
Then we hit the elevators.
32 floors up, we went in groups of ten or so. The tour guide needed to scan his badge for each trip. Guess you need a reason to check out the view from above. This tour was the reason I suppose.
The elevator doors opened to a small corridor which opened to a big open room. Small windows surrounded us. I’m sure these windows don’t open. Feels a little stale. The pack splits off into tiny groups and flock to the windows. I didn’t move quick enough. I’ll wait. The plush carpet makes for a quiet space. People were whispering.
I finally got a window to myself. I could see American industry, traffic, bridges, Canada, other architectural wonders. It was hard to make out any people though. Couldn’t really hear anything apart from the tour guide and occasional chuckles from the fellow sight-seers when some lame-ass joke was cracked. Funny how when a group laughs, I’ll crack a smile – not even knowing what the hell they are laughing at. Pack mentality, I guess.
The tour guide started giving his wrapping-up signals and we all started to make our way back to the elevators. “Meet be back in the lobby!” he said.
When we reached street level, I snuck out the door and escaped the pack. The tour was enlightening but I was glad to be back on the street. Eye level with people, cars honking their horns, the greasy smells rolling out the doors of a Coney Island, gritty sidewalks and windows. This is what I want. The views from above remove all of this life, this reality, this beauty.
I light a smoke and cross the street. It’s hot today. People are sweaty, knocking back beers in bistro chairs just outside the doors of some bar. Music blares from cars cruising around with the windows open. A breeze picks up and sends some leaflets flying.
Get away from the pack. Open a window. Knock back a beer. Life is better at street level.
Vowel Pellet
