Chicago is a Thrillah (Part III and Last)

[Last Sunday, our last full day in Chi-town, was best: sunny, relaxing, fun, and we bought all the stuff we'd been eyeing but hadn't been able to decide whether we could afford. Unfortunately, Laurel, who had been staying with us, had to leave in the morning, so after seeing her off to the airport, John and I just strolled around more, shopped, and drank in that ineffable feeling of being in a different place.]

[Purchases:
Pink Missundaztood,
Jody Watley Midnight Lounge,
Weezer "Island in the Sun" single
(including Jimmy Pop's fab remix of "Hash Pipe"),
Robbie Williams Swing If You're Winning,
2002 Powerpuff Girls calendar for me,
2002 Van Gogh and Gauguin: The Studio of the South calendar from the Art Institute, for Mom,
A baby blanket from some gay artsy-craftsy store on Halsted, for one of John's coworkers.]

[Acquisitions:
Lots and lots of free Aveda products from the Hotel Monaco (Score! Rosemary-mint shampoo and conditioner, yum...),
Generic grooming stuff from the House of Blues Hotel,
A Chicago transit map from Pete, to be squirreled away in my shoebox o' maps.]

[Dinner that night was with Pete and Rick at the marvelous Mark's Chop Suey in Boystown, where I picked up a vintage Mao Zedong lapel pin for Max's Christmas present. (Why can't we get good Chinese food in San Francisco? Well, OK, U-Lee is great, and we can't complain about the takeout chicken chow mein from New Land, right around the corner on Geary, but really, Mark's had the most amazing chicken dishes...yes, I'm talking about the food.)]

[Drinks after with P., R., Chelsea and Marie-Rose at Sidetrack, a large, multi-chambered boite up the street. Oh, Lord, we thought, not showtunes night, but we turned out to be in the mood after all. We hunkered down on the back patio where we could see but, for the most part, not be seen, and talked and sang along with the cavalcade of video clips and drunken queens. About 200 times more fun than S.F.'s only video bar, the Midnight Sun. After we said bye to Pete and Rick, the women took us for one drink at the top of the Hancock Building. 95 floors up, and the lighted grid of Chicagoland spread before us, we wrapped up the trip in the best way.]

[Traveling home early Monday morning was the usual nightmare (though our trip on the L to O'Hare went smooth and quick; don't let anyone tell you that BART to the airport is a bad idea), and now it's time for me to stop doing this and start making sure next week's finals aren't a total fiasco...]

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