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I headed for the Sears Tower, no longer the tallest building in the world but still the tallest in North America. There were almost no queues, but still it took me a long time to get to the top. For some reason they insist on everyone watching some promotional video before they’re allowed to get to the lift. And then they tried to take a photo of me to superimpose on some cheesy view. This happens in all sorts of places, and I can never really believe that anyone would actually buy the photos. I waved the photographer aside and strode through to the lift.

It was an overcast, dull day. Chicago looked very yellow, and stretched away out of sight in all directions, except to the east where Lake Michigan stretched out of sight. There were not many people on the viewing platform. I got into a conversation with someone, who asked me whether I knew what a particular building was. I didn’t, and presumed he was not from around here. He turned out to be a DJ from Texas and we talked about music for a while. He asked me if I was from around here, which surprised me a lot. I thought my English accent was a dead giveaway.

The DJ gave me his card, and I wandered on. The clouds seemed to be breaking up a bit, but I didn’t have too much time before my flight on to Tucson, so I headed back down the tower. I got back on the metro, and as we clanked out towards O’Hare, the Sun suddenly broke out, and by the time I got to the airport the skies were completely clear.