The last stretch of my driving, going south down Lake Shore Drive, was like driving through a dreamy otherworld. The sky was black, much darker than the usual manmade, rusty Chigo glow. Fog settled over the road in a loving whispmy embrace that left the view sraight ahead clear. The lamps lined the road as well manicured, stately metal trees, spilling down soft, glowing edges to the tunnel of mist. One could well imagine driving to some modern fairy kingdom along such a tunnel, instead of Chicago's South Side.