I never take downtown for granted. When I walk down Race Street and Central Avenue twice a week, I absorb it all like some overly optimistic sponge. Cincinnati is my New York City. Our breweries are in re-purposed factories and the art scene blows me away. We have kick-ass music festivals every year and an awesome sense of community. On Monday, a midst the school delays and the polar vortex, I was slipping and sliding down Garfield Place trying to prevent the liquid in my eyeballs from freezing. A man – who looked inebriated in some way – laughed at me and told me I was an embarrassment to the human race. What? Okay. So street harassment is something I’ve grown accustomed to in this city – most of the time it’s barbaric and invasive, but sometimes it’s funny. Sometimes there’s nothing you can do about it. I was in a good mood that day, so I laughed, and so did he. I smiled and waved and thanked him for the probably drug-induced insult; continuing my way down the frozen tundra.

Walking the two blocks to work is always an adventure. Anything can happen: I could be insulted by a stranger, get a random compliment, or discover an award-winning sandwich shop. The camaraderie I feel walking alongside strangers is like a sweet pang of nostalgia; I know it won’t last but I enjoy it while it does. We own this city. We are the group of (semi) young professionals who click our heels and walk around with a purpose. We mingle with each other for quick seconds at stoplights and crosswalks. It’s like when I trip over myself in public and make eye contact with someone who saw me fall: we share embarrassing smiles and continue on. We are a team. I walk around in complete and utter awe of this place. Or maybe I’m just weird. Maybe everyone else is grumbling about going to work and being downtown when it’s this cold – maybe everybody is wondering who that strange girl is with the extra pep in her step. I don’t know, but I just feel blessed to be a part of it all.

There’s a huge difference between driving around downtown and walking around on foot, especially when it’s cold. The Mid West can be a cruel, cruel place in the winter. The ice crunches underneath my feet and every step I take could mean life or death. On this recent Monday afternoon, I passed Fins & Feathers, a local BBQ joint on Garfield. This small corner shop has two giant barbecue slow cookers – I don’t know grill lingo – but they look like big, black, rusted ovens permeating the air with salt and smoke. With only a two-star rating on Yelp, I’m weary about trying this place out. However, if their ribs taste anything like the air outside smells, it might just be worth it.

I finished my walk to work with a smile, my cheeks red from the cold and my soul warm with excitement; grateful for the hurried and diverse experience of walking around in downtown Cincinnati.