Chicago, Chicago

Over the weekend, I made my first trip to Chicago. It was a blast. I’ll break down the details below.

Day 1, Friday

I run screaming out of my office around 1:45 and had no problems at the airport, so within an hour, I was at the gate with my fellow travellers, Karen, Kristin, and Mel. Since our flight wasn’t leaving ‘til 4, we had plenty of time for a cocktail in the lovely airport sports bar. When you order a drink, they offer to make it a double for another two dollars. How can you turn down that offer? (For the record, I am opposed to all forms of supersizing, except when it concerns alcohol.) The flight was uneventful, although there was a strange smell coming from behind me, sort of like musty socks dipped in vinegar. That turned out to be the vinegar fries that Mel brought on the plane. The chatty midwestern guy sitting next to me tried to engage me in conversation (“Are you visiting Chicago for business or pleasure, he said, with just a touch of a leer on “pleasure”), but I shut him down by sticking my nose in my book and keeping it there for the rest of the flight. You can hop right on the subway at the airport, and it was about a 45-minute ride to Kristin’s dad’s condo.

The condo is amazing. It’s pretty much all windows, so the view is fabulous. The lake is only a few blocks away, and when it wasn’t foggy, we had a really good view of it. I think the neighborhood is called the Gold Coast? We chilled at the apartment for a while, drinking some of the wine that Mel transported from DC. We had dinner at a great French restaurant, Bistro Margot, which was just a few blocks from the condo. I had the mussels as an appetizer, which was crazy since there were about 400 mussels on the plate. Appetizer, my ass. For my entrée, I had rack of lamb, which was to die for (love love love that delicious lamb. baaah!). I tried some of Mel’s fish, which was also great and probably cooked in about a pound of butter. It was a long dinner and we were all a bit tired, so we made it an early night, intending to get an early start on the next day.

Day 2, Saturday

We did manage to get an early start, heading out for brunch at a place called Orange, which is sort of a juice bar. While we were waiting for our table and doing a little window-shopping, we realized that they did not serve drinks. This would happen again on Sunday. How do we keep finding brunch places that don’t serve brunch drinks? Still, this place was worth the wait. You can order any kind of combination juice. I had orange/pineapple/mango. I think Kristin’s was strawberry/banana/pineapple. All delicious (although a shot of vodka wouldn’t have hurt). They have this thing called a pancake flight, where you get four stacks of silver dollar pancakes, each done differently, but all within a theme. We got that as an appetizer (sweet brunch appetizers being a new trend begun by Nathan, which I think I am going to be adopting from now on). The theme was Italian. There was a stack of tiramisu pancakes, one covered with flan, one with ricotta and something else, and I can’t remember the fourth, but they were all fantastic. I then had huevos rancheros. Having the pancakes first solved my usual brunch dilemma of sweet versus salty (honestly, I spend ridiculous amounts of time staring at brunch menus, saying “sweet or salty? sweet or salty?”).

After brunch, we spent several hours shopping in the same neighborhood (can’t recall the name of it). There is some great shopping in Chicago. There are tons of stores with really cool, inexpensive clothes, shoes, and bags. DC just does not have this kind of variety. I went a little nuts, but everything was so cheap. I regret not buying a purse, since I saw about 45 that I wanted. I guess there were just too many to choose from. I am still obsessing over the basket purse. It was shaped like a wicker basker and had hot pink handles and a big hot pink flower on it. Why did I hesitate? I did get two pairs of supercute shoes, two skirts, and a top.

Later in the afternoon, we headed back to the condo to meet up with Megan, who actually ended up knocking on the door of another apt. 2501 at a completely different building. There’s a great grocery store down the street, so we picked up some wine and cheese and relaxed for a couple of hours (shopping is hard work). Had some interesting discussions over the wine and cheese, but I won’t go into specifics. Kristin’s friend Scott came to meet us and was kind enough to chauffeur us around. We all went to dinner at Adobo in Wicker Park, a very good Mexican place, where they make the guacamole at your table a la Rosa Mexicana (is this a new trend?). I had Kahlua flan for dessert, which I am still raving over. You have no idea how good it was. We went to a bar around the corner after dinner called the Rainbow Club. After less than an hour, Karen and I went back to the condo. It’s official: I can no longer party like a rock star. What happened to me? I am glad to say that some of us are still capable of it (as Mel said many times this weekend, “you go, girlfriend!”).

Day 3, Sunday

We got a slightly later start, probably having something to do with all the alcohol consumed on day 2. We made our way back to Wicker Park, intending to have brunch at a place called the Bongo Room, but the wait was an hour and 45 minutes (!), so we ended up down the street at the Ann Sather Café. The original Ann Sather is a really famous Swedish restaurant. This one is an off-shoot and didn’t seem particularly Swedish. My sweet/salty dilemma was solved because you can get cinnamon rolls as one of your two sides with any egg dish. Those cinnamon rolls were amazing. I should have brought some back on the plane. They may have been the best thing I ate in Chicago (it’s a tight race with the flan). Again, no alcohol at brunch. I probably sound like a huge drunk, but I just happen to really like brunch drinks. I can’t imagine a juice that isn’t enhanced by a little vodka or champagne. They did have something called “oxygen water,” which containes 10% more oxygen than regular water and was claimed by the waiter to help hangovers. Those at my table who drank it were not impressed.

After brunch, we did a little more shopping. I was still jonesin for a purse, but I just couldn’t find one that was right for me (again, regretting the basket purse and that cute little pink fake Kelly bag from day 2). I was enraptured by a pair of mary janes at Fluvog, but I couldn’t justify paying over $200 for purple and red shoes that would match maybe two things I own. We checked out a really cool used bookstore called Myopic, but it’s definitely a place you need a lot of time for. It’s packed and kind of claustrophobic. I did find a book on the Wars of the Roses that I had been wanting to read for a while, so I picked that up.

We headed back to the condo, packed up our stuff, and got back on the subway to O’Hare. The airport was interesting. Right in front of us in line were a young couple carrying the strangest thing in their suitcase. It appeared to be a giant piggy bank in the shape of a pig wearing a cowboy hat. It was two feet tall and they had tried to stuff it into a rollerbag. It totally didn’t fit in the bag, so the hat was sticking out the top and they had put bungee cords all around the bag to hold it together since they couldn't zip it . I was thinking, they are so not gonna be able to check that bag, and indeed, one of the airline employees pulled them over and told them so. They seemed genuinely surprised at this.

Security was fine. I was marveling at having gotten through security two times now without having my bra checked to make sure that really is an underwire in there, but I now know that they stopped doing the breast exam because it made people uncomfortable. Imagine that! Our flight was delayed, so we decided to get something to eat and drink. The only option was Chili’s. We actually waited in line to get into a Chili’s. That may have been the strangest part of the whole weekend. The last check was still on the table and from the credit card receipt we could see that the last customer had only tipped like 10%. What an asshole. Our service was just great, and I think we tipped at least 12% (kidding). The gates at O’Hare are pretty small, so most people end up sitting on the floor. The wait wasn’t too bad, and I think we took off within 30 to 45 minutes of our original departure time. It was another uneventful flight and then I dragged my tired ass home and into bed.

Some random thought on Chicago: I really liked it. It is perhaps what New York was 50 years ago, in terms of neighborhoods still having a real ethnic identity. The architecture was very interesting. I wish I had gotten to see more of the city, but I’m sure I’ll be making a return trip. People are definitely friendlier out there, none of that East Coast reserve I’m used to. I never knew that the nickname “the Windy City” has nothing to do with the wind, which is funny because it is really windy there.