_eliot_spencer (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} _eliot_spencer) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} omega_reality,@ 2012-11-21 14:11:00 |
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Who: Eliot/April/Nate
When: 11-21-12
Where: LaPorte County, Indiana
Summary: They finally arrive.
Wanting to avoid Chicago, they cut across Illinois and into Indiana on Wednesday. April directed Nate from the passenger seat to take Indiana Highway 421 north. Eliot petted Cody, watching the scenery out the window. He could actually see the fallow farm fields and sporadic small towns they passed through, which had little more than a church, a gas station, and Co-Op silos. Colors were bright and vibrant to him; buildings, animals, and people crisp and clear. The only thing lacking was his being able to read, but he wasn’t going to complain for even a nanosecond. Not when the whole world was visible to him again.
Eliot had a hard time keeping his eyes off his wife, which caused much blushing from her from all his intense staring. His mental image of her from before he’d lost his sight paled in comparison to the real thing. She was not his usual type, more homespun and natural than model, and it just made his love for her feel all the more true. Nate looked bemused, like he couldn’t believe it either when Eliot pointed it out, out of her earshot. Eliot was smitten all over again.
They arrived at the LaPorte County border around lunchtime and they stopped at a small diner on the corner of Route 30 for lunch before pressing on. Farmland stretched along the road for another half hour before the reached the Town of Westville. Driving past the Westville Correctional Facility and Maximum Control Center made April declare that they were definitely not going to live there, even though Westville hadn’t been one of their destination spots.
Past Westville, farmland disappeared behind trees and small housing developments. They drove past Purdue North Central College, with its full parking lots and metal sculptures dotting the landscape. Eliot might not like the sculptures, but he didn’t deny the delight in being able to see and comment on them along with Nate and April.
Crossing over the I-90 Toll Road, they passed beneath a railroad trellis, came around a tree-lined curve, and arrived at the Cool Springs Inn. It was April’s first choice for them to stay because of its location and price, and with a quick look Eliot saw no cameras anywhere, not even in the office. April was pleased, but it was early afternoon and there were other possibilities on her list. They decided to use the time to take a driving tour of the two towns they were thinking of staying at, Michigan City and LaPorte. There was no sense in staying in the area if the towns turned out to be bad news.
Nate continued driving north on the tree-lined Highway 421. Houses divided the scenery from time to time until they reached the I-94 Expressway overpass. From there, they drove into a different environment than they’d seen all along 421. It was busy and populous, with people getting on and off the expressway to stop at the numerous restaurants and gas stations. April spotted three of the other hotels off her list of places to stay, two of which were crowded with trucks and the third right on the main drag. Eliot could tell by the set of her shoulders they were not staying at any of those places before she said anything.
Box stores, strip malls, and restaurant after restaurant after restaurant packed the strip. A place called Big R’s was across the street from a store called Big Lots. Wal-Mart, Meijer Superstore, Menards and Lowe’s stood tall behind smaller groupings of individual shops. April perked as she read that Rodini’s Restaurant was open for Thanksgiving, though Eliot could hear the underlying melancholy in her tone.
Nate drove though the green light at Route 20 and they passed an indoor mall, more restaurants, an Al’s Supermarket, and three car dealerships. Houses began to appear the further they traveled north on 421. Those houses vanished when they crossed a set of railroad tracks and suddenly they were in an area that appeared to literally define the “wrong side of the tracks”. Rundown buildings and empty, boarded up stores framed the street now, along with several bars and tattoo parlors. The road was still crowded with cars, though, and there was no feeling of fear as they drove; it was more of a depressed area.
Nate had to stop the car for a passenger train that rolled on tracks right down the center of 11th Street. The bizarre sight caused a chuckle. Once the South Shore Line train had passed, Nate continued on, over the tracks, and they were back on the “right side” again. The neighborhood they entered was beautified, with professional businesses and shops on either side of the now one-way, brick-lain street. Banners hung from streetlights pronouncing that they were in the Uptown Arts District.
Highway 421, also called Franklin Street now, abruptly came to an end at a T-intersection. Eliot stared at the building blocking their way forward. “Has my vision gone bad, or is that the ugliest building ever?”
The response was unanimous.
Nate turned right and followed the road until it ended again and made a left so they were once more heading north. A tourist sign at the corner of Route 12 helpfully told them that Blue Chip Casino was to the east, Lighthouse Place Outlet Mall was to the west, and that Washington Park Beach and Washington Park Zoo were straight ahead.