It’s dog-walking hour on Logan Boulevard. Two greyhounds each have on their spring jackets, one red and one black, their walker also in black. Just past Maplewood Avenue, a skate park sits underneath the Kennedy. Eight teenage skateboarders and three younger boys on scooters contentedly circle the concrete edifice avoiding the ramps and railings. Most of the tricks attempted by the eight fail, and when one succeeds, there’s no peer congratulations or gloating by he who triumphs; he’s already moved on. Rush hour can be heard on the 90/94 above, but none of the young skaters or spectators need rush to be anywhere on this the first day of spring break from school in Chicago. On a fence, a rules sign and two other signs equally prohibit alcohol and dogs from entering the park. That fence, three-feet high, separates the skaters from the civilians. A peanut gallery of the latter weighs in occasionally on the antics on display, where a girl in pink pants steals a boy’s hat off his head. It will belong to her for the forseeable future. On the tracks that run parallel with the expressway, there’s a Metra train going somewhere. The sun will set within the next few hours, but the lights on the underbelly of the Kennedy are already on, and there skaters are going nowhere soon. (Andrew Rhoades)
