Chicago is a Thrillah (Part II)

[Must, must, must get down the rest of Chicago before I forget. Since returning, I've plunged into studying for finals, and I feel like our lovely time out of town is fading...]

[OK, Friday, Laurel, John and I had explored the Loop fairly thoroughly, and were enjoying the window seat in our room at the Monaco, waiting for Chelsea. She arrived, and we planned to hit two art openings: one at a gallery attached to an office building on the Near South Side, and one further out, in the historic Prairie Ave. district. Marie-Rose was going to be studying at her professor's house (said professor being out of town), and we were going to meet there after the second art show for homemade lasagna, wine, and bonhomie.]

[Glitch #1: The first art show was over by time we got there. OK, fine, bus to Prairie, to visit WomanMade's holiday art sale. I really don't want to sound anything like the yuppie assholes from my previous entry, but I don't think I've ever been in a locus of such concentrated lesbian cliche. Maybe I was casting a jaundiced eye after having visiting so many masterpieces at the Art Institute earlier that day, but I just couldn't muster the enthusiasm for the estrogen-filled, artsy-craftsy feel of the place. It didn't help that it was $2 per glass of boxed Franzia wine, either. I know, I know, I'm an asshole. All I know is, after the first hour, and Chelsea and Marie-Rose still weren't ready to leave, Laurel, John and I wanted to chew off a leg to escape. Yes, M-R showed up at about 9:00; gee, I thought we were meeting at your prof's house, where there'd be a fabulous dinner waiting?]

[Glitch #2: After finally leaving WomanMade (to whom I send all good energy in their fight against their greedy landlords, really), we drove slowly thru the slums of Chicago's South Side (wow, we ain't got nuthin' like those 'jects in California, and I've been there), to a grocery store near the relatively wealthy Hyde Park enclave (adjacent to the University of Chicago), where we bought a bunch of ingredients for dinner. Uh-oh, it's getting on to 10:00; what, if any, preparations has Marie-Rose made?]

[We got to M-R's professor's lovely apartment, and discovered the raw ingredients for lasagna. Oh, shit, I hate to eat late. To forestall a rare temper tantrum, I went into high-speed cooking mode, and Marie-Rose, Chelsea, and I managed to whip together the fastest lasagna, salad, and garlic bread possible. We still didn't eat until almost 11:30. I don't know why I'm belaboring this (we had a lovely time at dinner and after, sitting in the living room, playing with dog, and talking about the first time each of us tried LSD), but this is the second time we've run into this - flakiness? - with Chelsea. Summer 1999; the West Village was an overcrowded steambath during New York's gay pride fest; and Chelsea just knew the Mexican restaurant (which promised urgently needed, cooling margaritas) was right around the next corner...or the next... I love these women, I just need to remember not to depend on them for my physical comfort ever again. Marie-Rose was a sport to drive us all the way back to the Loop that night, but we didn't get to sleep until after 2AM.]

[Saturday, Laurel, John and I were determined to have Chicago deep-dish pizza, and, believe it or not, the "Secrets of Chicago" guide Chelsea lent me said that Pizzeria Due, the local spinoff of the national Uno chain, had a fairly genuine version. Well, OK...the pie we got was about the same as at the the Uno in Embarcadero Center, and the sausage and pepperoni made Laurel sick for the rest of her stay, but we had our damned pizza. Afterwards, John and I finally met up with Pete and Rick, and we toured the Lincoln Park conservatory and zoo, and grabbed a quick coffee in Boystown. (J. and I weren't that eager to hit Chi-town's gay ghetto; when the Castro's in our back yard, what's the point?) That night, Chelsea and Marie-Rose took us to vegetarian Indian in Devon Ave.'s Little Madras, and we met Pete again for a cocktail at C. and M-R's neighborhood pub, a tiny spot decorated with authentic Art Deco (apparently Charmers has been a "gentleman's club" since at least the Depression) and cheesy Christmas deco. I finally got to ride the L back downtown, with Laurel turning green (the combination of the aforementioned pizza and her korma at dinner playing havoc with her stomach) and John just looking like he wanted to be home.]

[Enough. It's late...we wrap up tomorrow, if I can find time between two review sessions. The prospect of finals is causing me more stress than it probably should, and I need to sleep...]

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