Chicago is a Thrillah (Part I)

[Back safe and sound and tired. After never really adjusting to Central Standard Time, John and I were up at 5:30 CST this morning to catch the L from the Loop to O'Hare, just to sit at the airport for an hour doing nuthin' until boarding. Don't you believe you need to be at the airport two hours before your flight: we sat at both SFO and ORD for way too long when we could've been sleeping.]

[Who knew we'd have to go to northern Illinois to escape bad weather in late November-early December? Except for some healthy precip when Chelsea picked us up at the airport on Thursday evening, we had gorgeous, dry weather the whole trip. I actually got color yesterday walking the Magnificent Mile, while it looks like the Bay Area was waterlogged all weekend.]

[So, after an interminable drive on surface streets to Chelsea and Marie-Rose's abode on the far North Side (I-90 being rush-hour choked), Laurel, Chelsea, John and I swung by Northwestern to see if we could find M-R, then adjourned to pub grub, beer and straight yuppie assholes playing darts at an Irish pub in Evanston. I channeled the spirit of my fresh-from-Moline dad, who attended Northwestern for a couple of years in the early 60's (premed, of all things!) before dropping out to join the Navy. (His timeline: Moline childhood - Northwestern - the Navy, stationed at Great Lakes - transferred to Treasure Island in California - a blind date with the San Francisco State co-ed whom he would marry less than a year and half later - and out comes yours truly three years later after they're transferred to San Diego - he's out of the Navy after one tour of duty in Southeast Asia, and we've moved to Sonoma before my sister's born in 1971.)]

[Those yuppie assholes deserve a quick anecdote. Multi-ethnic but tiresomely homogeneous, they stood above us and commented endlessly about the cup size of some woman standing across the room. Chelsea, Marie-Rose, Laurel, John and I exchanged pointed glances, hoping they'd realize that, even if they weren't in the presence of two same-sex couples and a single straight woman, their comments were, like, really inappropriate. Eventually, emboldened by a Bass Ale and a half, I stood and started staring pointedly at the crotch at the most egregious of the Idiot Dude commentators. Idiot Dude didn't notice, and John finally asked what I was doing, and I said that I was just checking out Idiot Dude's package, as what seemed good for the goose, etc. I got a hearty high five from Marie-Rose, and general laughter all 'round, and still Idiot Dude didn't know what was going on. Eventually, he leaned over and said that he was thought of by most people as a pretty enlightened guy. We almost took the bait, but I've never been in a barroom brawl, and have no interest in breaking that record at this late date. Idiot Dude & Co. eventually drifted away; final review of Nevin's in Evanston: good Irish pub food, generic background music, asshole clientele.]

[Friday, I contacted Pete (my gay pal of longest duration) and his new cohabitant Rick, and could tell they needed one more day to recover from their trip to Florida. As Chelsea and Marie-Rose had work and school concerns, Laurel, John and I were on our own with downtown Chicago as our playground. We did a lot, so, in the absence of photos or a coherent narrative, here's my first day there in flashes:]

[Overrated Jewish food at Ada's under the L on North Wabash. Incredible, way too short a time at the Art Institute of Chicago. Aside from seeing such famous pictures as "American Gothic" and "The Old Guitarist" in person, it was just too much to take in. Laurel and John had to keep dragging me from different galleries; I became aware again of a thirst that I've let myself forget for too long. Justly famous popcorn from Garrett's next to Marshall Field's. Chilling on the spacious window seat in our room at the Monaco, overlooking the river.]

[Chicago's fantastic. More tomorrow...]

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