Visitors to Chicago’s rat hole put coins and a vape cartridge into it. The hole has existed for decades and is one of 2024’s first cultural phenomena after a tweet about it went viral in January.
Antoin Huynh of Los Angeles takes a photo of the rat hole in Chicago. “It definitely changed me,” he said after seeing it.
On a recent trip to Chicago, I begged my cousin to take me to a hole in a sidewalk shaped like a rat.
I don’t know what exactly drew me to this striking, non-human take on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame. Located in a low-key neighborhood in the city’s north side, the “rat hole” as it’s known to locals, is about a 30-minute drive from most of what you’d typically associate with a day trip into Chicago: the Bean, the museums, Navy Pier. The short, straightforward name of the rat hole isn’t something you say elegantly; it demands to be spit out, with a violence that echoes the way it was formed. Decades earlier, some unfortunate rodent slammed full-force into a patch of wet concrete, leaving a mark so detailed, down to the puffed-out contours of its belly and the digits of its paws, that a paleontologist would sacrifice an arm for it.
Though Chicago’s rat hole has existed for decades as a neighborhood in-joke, it became one of 2024’s first cultural phenomena after a tweet about it went viral in January. Soon, crowds of people would converge on the hole. Some threw estradiol pills or poured Malört into the crevice; others proposed and even got married at the site. A neighbor, poor soul, complained of raucous crowds and people doing “weird-ass ‘rituals’ ” outside late into the night. You can wear rat hole-themed earrings or make your own hole with a 3D printer.
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At the time of my visit, the hole had about 30 cents worth of coins and a vape cartridge in it. The unseasonably warm, rainy winter had given the hole a clammy ambiance as water pooled inside, mingling the neighborhood’s grime with visitor tributes. After waiting for a group of men to get their fill of the rat hole, I took some photos and left, trying not to look like too much of a dope. The experience took four minutes, all told.
Back in the car, my cousin asked if it was everything I’d anticipated.
“Oh hell yeah,” I told her.
Upon my return to San Francisco, I found myself confronted with more angst than usual in the public discourse over how to make our city more attractive to people, especially after it was announced that Macy’s — a signifier of the city’s previous glory, some might say — will soon close. The question now is what should go into that space in Union Square? Mayor London Breed has pledged to work with “leaders in retail, business, and real estate” to figure out how to use the space.
That the rat hole is having a renaissance while Union Square flounders suggest to me that San Francisco should try having a rat girl summer of its own.
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Americans are increasingly buying stuff over the internet, and it’s clear that a run-of-the-mill store isn’t going to cut it. So, the juicier query on the other side of the coin is, what will people respond to?
My experience in Chicago reminded me that there’s a counterintuitive beauty in spontaneous, unsuperlative and even gross things. Majesty might be a traditional draw, but the people also crave camp.
So why, after decades of existing, has the rat hole suddenly become such a big deal?
Maybe it’s because we love an underdog. Just the name itself is disgusting enough, channeling the phrase’s association with filth and squalor. It seems a much tamer version of the trash aesthetic and philosophy refined by icons like director John Waters; some of the rat hole’s most ardent fans are young queer and trans people who maybe see a bit of subversive resonance in this chaotic interruption of an otherwise smooth and respectable sidewalk.
No, I’m not advising that we fill Union Square with wet cement and press the city’s various fauna into it. But we could encourage the next developer to make Union Square a little bit stranger and unique.
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Of course that would require more creativity than beckoning a new upscale big box to nest in the sizable footprint that Macy’s will leave once it closes. But a bit of idiosyncrasy would meet the moment in a way that a department store can’t.
Bring in film screenings and an indoor skate park! Chop it up and provide spaces for smaller retail outfits and a Le Bon Marche-style food emporium on the bottom floor!
The appeal of staid brick-and-mortars like Macy’s has faltered in a world where online retailers can undercut prices, offer more niche wares and provide a cozier experience for those who prefer to shop in their underwear.
According to the U.S. Department of Commerce, 15.6% of retail purchases were made online in the fourth quarter of 2023. About a decade ago, that share was only about 6%.
According to traditional metrics of beauty and respectability, is the rat hole one of the “best” destinations in Chicago? Absolutely not. But you can’t deny its charisma. It inspires awe. Most importantly, it brings people to a neighborhood they likely otherwise wouldn’t have been able to find on a map.
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Even my cousin, who’d previously sworn to never go to the rat hole after reading about it in the news, still can’t stop talking about it. I’m sure, decades into our future and long after that thing has been paved over, she’ll laugh and say, “Remember when you made me go to the rat hole?”
Reach Soleil Ho (they/them): soleil@sfchronicle.com; Twitter: @hooleil
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