There are two types of street performers in Chicago: performers such as Puppet Bike or the Bucket Boys who flank busy, tourist-filled streets and those who sing or dance, oblivious to the fact that others are watching. Or at least that’s what they want you to think.
Everyone has seen girlfriend on the bus who’s rocking out to the song on her iPod, singing loudly enough for everyone else to hear. To her, it’s fine tuning her American Idol audition. To you, it’s a rather annoying accompaniment to your morning commute.
I experienced singing-man-on-a-bike the other day. He was riding down Damen, confidently bellowing and pedalling. I was impressed by the flawless choreography of the performance.
Then, the next day, I witnessed the talents of moved-by-the-spirit-man. Walking down Franklin near Superior, the man was sporting ashes on his forehead still fresh from Ash Wednesday mass. He was singing a hymn jubilantly, as if he was continuing choir practice on his own. At least, I assumed the song to be a hymn. That was probably because of the ashes.
All of these recent street performances have caused me to wonder what my talent is. I’m starting to think it’s miming to the thoughts swirling around in my head. Either that, or talking to myself. Ouch.
What’s your street talent? (Keep it clean, alright)