This sign appeared like a mirage above the sweltering sidewalks of Chicago the other day.
Trudging along South Canal Street, I stopped and pointed the sign out to my son. We both stared.
Were we hallucinating in the urban heat?
Was it a joke?
No, there it was, real as the blistering sun, fastened to a wall, proclaiming its nonsensical message to all willing to stop – feet on the sidewalk – and squint.
It reminded me of an episode of “Rod Serling’s Night Gallery” in which a hippie falls through a chute into hell. Hell, it seems, has a waiting room, and the hippie, played by John Astin of “Addams Family” fame, is confronted by a sign upon entering the room.
No smoking. No standing. No drinking. No talking. No sleeping. No food.
Hell, apparently, is a land of silly rules.
Then again, so is Chicago at times.