Something isn’t quite right here.
On Tuesday, askmen.com dubbed Chicago the best city in which to live, placing it on a pedestal high above citadels across the nation and abroad, including Barcelona and Paris.
But earlier this year, Forbes dubbed us the most miserable city for factors including “lousy weather, long commutes, rising unemployment and the highest sales tax rate in the country.”
To put it in painful perspective: Detroit was dubbed a less miserable metro.
Which ranking has it right?
Sadly, though I’ve lived here almost my entire life, I can’t call it at the moment.
Due to a perfect storm of parking meter hikes, potholes and wintry weather, I’m leaning away from AskMen’s enthusiasm.
Sure, the site mentioned some undeniable attractions: Lollapalooza, a vibrant restaurant scene and comedic contributions.
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Deep dish pizza, Garrett’s popcorn and our sexy skyline add even more to the pro-Chicago pot. It doesn’t hurt that cruising down LSD on a sunny Sunday is about as good as it gets.
But we’ve also got some serious issues, not to mention a wicked weather system that even now threatens us with snow … in April. I’m mostly peeved over our widely panned parking meters, leased to a private company in what has turned out to be an outsourcing abomination. How can we serenade a city where residents now pay approximately quadruple the number of quarters as before?
So PO’d is our populace that some drivers have been placing super glue in meter slots, according to The Parking Ticket Geek blogger, who relayed this interesting anecdote on “Chicago Tonight.” Can you blame them? Honestly, if I weren’t such a goody-two-shoes, I’d be tempted to try some Krazy Quarter action.
How can we celebrate the city’s ever-expanding net of red-light cameras or recent aldermanic notions to fine speeders via cop-in-a-box cameras? Safety is always important, but I can’t help but hear a distinct “ka-ching!” in the city’s coffers.
Another thing not going so smoothly: potholes.
I fully understand it’s a weather-related issue, but I’m sick of riding on roads with more dimples than Kim Kardashian’s rump.
Even the most stalwart citizens can’t deny they are perturbed with the potholes.
So what’s the verdict? Is Chicago really No. 1 or are we, to Forbes’ heavy-handed point, among America’s Most Miserable?
For me, it’s still a hung jury, but I’m willing to be swayed toward the celebratory side. I hate feeling down about my hometown.