My immediate reaction to the three-block, block party, was that it was a more organized, more sanitized, more diverse, less crowded, no Blues Brothers to be seen, cannabis vendors now legally present, new age Maxwell Street Market (which led me to learn that the new, real one apparently has reopened this summer on DesPlaines Street).

I made no attempt to see everything, and though I’m sorry I missed the Global Booty Dance, I did see some of the Hula Hoop fitness class.

I treated myself to a free copy of Fahrenheit 451, being handed out in front of a fire engine by the American Writers Museum.

And I couldn’t resist the allure of The Walnut Room’s walking pot pie, but was disappointed when, despite my urgings, it just sat there when I placed it on the curb next to me. So I ate it, which seemed like a pedestrian result.

The Ballet Folklorico de Chicago drew the biggest and most enthusiastic crowd I saw, with people (not me) jammed together to watch and snap photos of the dancers and their colorful costumes.

When a pigeon landed on my hand, I decided it was time to leave.