My Chicago Trip - Part 4 - Dawn Of the Final Day
So here it is. The final entry of the Chicago trip. It details the final full day in Chicago. In spite of it being a relatively simple day, it somehow managed to span 5 written pages in my little composition notebook. I also took to typing this on a regular keyboard because the laptop keyboard just might have murdered my Me-Time-Tools©.
Note: This was written the morning of 05/28 starting at approximately 7am, when all the guys in the band woke up, packed up and left. Left me in peace to watch Get Smart and Unbreakable while writing. I don't think I actually had an opportunity to commit anything to paper in the 24 hour period that was 05/27.
05/27/2009
So now I have to sit here and recap all of yesterday in some meaningful fashion. I want to say it started around 2pm when Steve needed to get himself a haircut. Obviously barber shops aren't my thing so I got to do a little more walking around in Wrigleyville. Found some pretty flowers. Found out that if you want to park in the Purple Lot just west of Wrigley it costs $50. I bought a $3 Crunch bar to donate to the sports teams of a local high school. I took a picture of O'Hagans bar from a similar spot as a scene in the movie Wanted. Then I capped it off by peeking at some delightfully filthy novelties from a t-shirt store. The strangest was a set of "female fake moustaches" that were pink instead of black.
So Steve finishes his haircut and we go off for the big lunch we planned. The place is called Lucky's. The reason it has that name? Every single sandwich on the menu is $7. That's not where the fun stops, however. Lucky's was featured on the show Man Vs Food for their 3-sandwich challenge. To get a single $7 sandwich down is a feat. To down 3 in an hour is a test of the human spirit.
You start with giant sourdough slices, pile on french fries, coleslaw, tomato, cheese, and your meat of choice. The finished product is a 10" x 5" x 5" brick of soul-crushingly delicious art. So for the challenge I kept it simple. Ham, Turkey, and Roast Beef. With the help of a couple cups of water I cleared 1 basket, and the sandwich portion of a 2nd basket. I was miserable as hell for the next 3-4 hours. It didn't help that Steve peer-pressured me into an Irish Car Bomb and 2 Starry Nights in the time after attempting those sandwiches. You know, for as absolutely vile as a Starry Night should taste, it wasn't so bad. Goldschlager & Jagermeister should be highly offensive but that cinnamon aftertaste was quite nice.
In all my misery, I was somewhat comforted by two of quite possibly the coolest bartenders I'll ever meet. The one who got the most face time was Ryan. Guy is in a band and played us some of his tunes. Imagine if 311 did Indie Rock instead of Ska and that's how everything sounded. Guy was a drummer, which explained a lot. Each instrument seems to have a personality attached. One of his buddies came over and sat down near me. I ended up bullshitting with that dude about how cool Rugby/Soccer are, as well as expressed a mutual liking for the Beastie Boys. So when the bartender wrapped his shift, we wrapped our tab and moved to another phase of the evening - Trader Todd's for karaoke.
Now, being that it was a Tuesday evening I wasn't expecting much. When I walked in, the lone waitress appeared to greet me with some extra panache that you don't usually see. Maybe it's because the place was empty and she was bored. Maybe she just had that trademark friendliness that Chicago people tend to have. Steve and I took a table so we could continue watching the Cubs game and the Penguins game. They had some great specials - $3.50 You-Call-Its and for some reason my Irish Car Bombs were the same price. There seemed to be a twinkle in the eye of the waitress as she broke this news to us. Not to mention the extra touchy-feely attention I'd get if I stepped up to her to ask her a question. In my opinion it was way more attention than any waitress should need to pay to a customer.
Obviously I was a bit special to her. We shared a little with each other. Music was her big passion. She did production and performance and appeared to have a busy life surrounding that. I got to share my writing stories. Throughout all this her hands kept coming to my hands, or my shoulders. Over the course of the reason she seemed to treat my table as a sort of "homebase" to continue talking to myself and Steve.
Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was because I had less than 24 hours left in the city. Maybe I gained some confidence while I was here. It may have been the perfect storm for me. I decided that I needed to exit my comfort zone in dramatic fashion by trying to acquire my waitress's phone number. When she brought over our next round of shots I looked her in the eye I looked her in the eye and declared that I would not drink my shot unless she gave up the digits. She looked like she was going to fall over where she stood. She politely informed me that she was "currently involved" and wasn't more specific than that. However she appreciated the interest, and gracefully made her exit. When she came back she handed over her phone number, and down the car bomb went. Ego grew a notch and I found out more of what I'm capable of. It was an emotional moment within myself to say the least.
With my intoxication levels at a comfortable high, and with Steve having to do some work in the morning, we made our exit. We stopped for Subway on the way home. Yes, Subway is open until 4am there. Subway is the most amazing drunkfood. Thank you, quiet middle eastern college student employee. You made 2:30am Subway possible!
So now it's 9:15am on 05/28 and only now have I fully recapped yesterday. Now all that's left is to be ready to make my last trip on the Red Line to get myself to my flight at Chicago Midway.
So there you have it. It was a very therapeutic trip. I actually came back to work Friday without a sense of dread. I was legitimately relaxed, and was able to savor it fully, if only for a couple of days. Thanks to anyone who stuck through and read all this.
Note: This was written the morning of 05/28 starting at approximately 7am, when all the guys in the band woke up, packed up and left. Left me in peace to watch Get Smart and Unbreakable while writing. I don't think I actually had an opportunity to commit anything to paper in the 24 hour period that was 05/27.
05/27/2009
So now I have to sit here and recap all of yesterday in some meaningful fashion. I want to say it started around 2pm when Steve needed to get himself a haircut. Obviously barber shops aren't my thing so I got to do a little more walking around in Wrigleyville. Found some pretty flowers. Found out that if you want to park in the Purple Lot just west of Wrigley it costs $50. I bought a $3 Crunch bar to donate to the sports teams of a local high school. I took a picture of O'Hagans bar from a similar spot as a scene in the movie Wanted. Then I capped it off by peeking at some delightfully filthy novelties from a t-shirt store. The strangest was a set of "female fake moustaches" that were pink instead of black.
So Steve finishes his haircut and we go off for the big lunch we planned. The place is called Lucky's. The reason it has that name? Every single sandwich on the menu is $7. That's not where the fun stops, however. Lucky's was featured on the show Man Vs Food for their 3-sandwich challenge. To get a single $7 sandwich down is a feat. To down 3 in an hour is a test of the human spirit.
You start with giant sourdough slices, pile on french fries, coleslaw, tomato, cheese, and your meat of choice. The finished product is a 10" x 5" x 5" brick of soul-crushingly delicious art. So for the challenge I kept it simple. Ham, Turkey, and Roast Beef. With the help of a couple cups of water I cleared 1 basket, and the sandwich portion of a 2nd basket. I was miserable as hell for the next 3-4 hours. It didn't help that Steve peer-pressured me into an Irish Car Bomb and 2 Starry Nights in the time after attempting those sandwiches. You know, for as absolutely vile as a Starry Night should taste, it wasn't so bad. Goldschlager & Jagermeister should be highly offensive but that cinnamon aftertaste was quite nice.
In all my misery, I was somewhat comforted by two of quite possibly the coolest bartenders I'll ever meet. The one who got the most face time was Ryan. Guy is in a band and played us some of his tunes. Imagine if 311 did Indie Rock instead of Ska and that's how everything sounded. Guy was a drummer, which explained a lot. Each instrument seems to have a personality attached. One of his buddies came over and sat down near me. I ended up bullshitting with that dude about how cool Rugby/Soccer are, as well as expressed a mutual liking for the Beastie Boys. So when the bartender wrapped his shift, we wrapped our tab and moved to another phase of the evening - Trader Todd's for karaoke.
Now, being that it was a Tuesday evening I wasn't expecting much. When I walked in, the lone waitress appeared to greet me with some extra panache that you don't usually see. Maybe it's because the place was empty and she was bored. Maybe she just had that trademark friendliness that Chicago people tend to have. Steve and I took a table so we could continue watching the Cubs game and the Penguins game. They had some great specials - $3.50 You-Call-Its and for some reason my Irish Car Bombs were the same price. There seemed to be a twinkle in the eye of the waitress as she broke this news to us. Not to mention the extra touchy-feely attention I'd get if I stepped up to her to ask her a question. In my opinion it was way more attention than any waitress should need to pay to a customer.
Obviously I was a bit special to her. We shared a little with each other. Music was her big passion. She did production and performance and appeared to have a busy life surrounding that. I got to share my writing stories. Throughout all this her hands kept coming to my hands, or my shoulders. Over the course of the reason she seemed to treat my table as a sort of "homebase" to continue talking to myself and Steve.
Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was because I had less than 24 hours left in the city. Maybe I gained some confidence while I was here. It may have been the perfect storm for me. I decided that I needed to exit my comfort zone in dramatic fashion by trying to acquire my waitress's phone number. When she brought over our next round of shots I looked her in the eye I looked her in the eye and declared that I would not drink my shot unless she gave up the digits. She looked like she was going to fall over where she stood. She politely informed me that she was "currently involved" and wasn't more specific than that. However she appreciated the interest, and gracefully made her exit. When she came back she handed over her phone number, and down the car bomb went. Ego grew a notch and I found out more of what I'm capable of. It was an emotional moment within myself to say the least.
With my intoxication levels at a comfortable high, and with Steve having to do some work in the morning, we made our exit. We stopped for Subway on the way home. Yes, Subway is open until 4am there. Subway is the most amazing drunkfood. Thank you, quiet middle eastern college student employee. You made 2:30am Subway possible!
So now it's 9:15am on 05/28 and only now have I fully recapped yesterday. Now all that's left is to be ready to make my last trip on the Red Line to get myself to my flight at Chicago Midway.
So there you have it. It was a very therapeutic trip. I actually came back to work Friday without a sense of dread. I was legitimately relaxed, and was able to savor it fully, if only for a couple of days. Thanks to anyone who stuck through and read all this.