Not Today Chicago

Sunny skies all the way through Missouri and the majority of Illinois, until we hit just south of Chicago. It wasn't anything too crazy, no thunder or lighting, just big ole rain drops and ominous cloud coverage.

We hit unavoidable traffic for a brief period getting into and through the city, but it worked out well, we were able to snap some pics of the skyline, or at least its shadow.

Miraculously it cleared up just as we got into the center.

We stayed with Steph's sister, Maryn and her husband, Nelson. They were awesome hosts and had the CUTEST dog, Canela - Spanish for "cinnamon." This is her acting as Chicago TSA, going through our luggage for illegal contraband or treats. Sorry, Canela, just dirty clothes and the scent of several hotels.

So, Chicago, hometown of current President, Barack Obama - aka B$ -also known for this permanent public art sculpture known to most as "The Bean," but properly named "Cloud Gate." It's all about perspective, reflection, yada yada. Here are Steph and I and a babillion other tourists reveling in our own reflections.

This photo may not do it justice, but the most intriguing part of The Bean is the center; you stand underneath the entire structure and it reflects images in numerous directions. Science is pretty cool. As Jillian once said, on a magical trip to Upstate New York, "Space (or in this case, science) retards me."

Just past The Bean is another part of Millennium Park. These huge towers shed water while tiles simultaneously flip to produce the image of different people.

Kids obviously LOVE this because kids love anything that involves water and splashing.

 This guy. Probably looking for inspiration for the new album he and his reggae band are "working on."

So, after staring at this moving image of a face for a while, the mouth begins to move and form a fountain like shape. You can't see it here, but every kid went running towards this makeshift waterfall.

HA. OK. Wow. This picture means so much. Heading back from downtown, making our way to Wrigleyville, we passed this American Apparel. Both Stephanie and I were freaked out when what we thought was a human model in the window turned out to just be the window designer. After making a few 5-7-9 jokes (remember when they used to make their employees stand around the store like mannequins?), we both wanted to take a picture, naturally. Well, what should have been a fairly easy, if creepy task, turned out to be this huge operation requiring a lot of discussion and planning between Steph and myself. The girl noticed we were up to no good and refused to allow us to snap a pic of her. Unfortunately, she was trapped in her glass enclosure and only had a prop handbag to save her.

Both Stephanie and I would like to say "Sorry, American Apparel employee. Sorry you caught us doing what anyone with a sense of humor would have done. Sorry you thought that handbag would save you from two creeps on a mission. Sorry you were caught "hipster in her natural habitat -wide eyed, angsty, affected, and annoyed." Sorry you're so misunderstood. We get you. We understand.

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Wrigleyville: Home of Wrigley Field, the Chicago Cubs, and the Chicago Dog

And good local beer. We stopped atGoose Island Pub. Both Stephanie and I agree that the Honkers Ale was the winner of these four: not too hoppy, not too light, good after taste.

We moseyed our way out of Wrigleyville towards Lakeview, we stopped at Strange Cargo to escape the rain, use up Stephanie's gift card, and have some team tee-shirts made.

Stephanie pretending to be Kris Kardashian pretending to be a good mother.

After seven hours of walking/commuting through the streets of Chicago, we happily embraced the deep dish lethargy a la Giordano's (apparently Chicago's 2nd best deep dish joint -only the best for the best I guess). Basically, we ate two pounds of chesse with a light coating of dough. It was delicious.

Public transportation memoirs: on the wet, bloated bus ride back to Steph's sister's place, our sassy bus lady shut the doors on a crazy woman and proclaimed, "Uh uh, NOT today!" Then, proceeded to explain to a curious passenger that the woman she had just refused service to enjoys her fair share of bus rides around the city. Enjoys them in that she gets on, sits down, and begins screaming non-stop. I believe her, because when she closed the doors on this iron-lunged crazy mess, the woman began to give us a little sample of what she had planned to do if her efforts hadn't been thwarted.

Oh, some of the train stations are in the middle of the highway.

On our train ride out that night, a smelly washed up wannabe musician parked himself right next to Steph.  He started talking at us by merely asking what direction the train is going in.  And then he proceeded to discuss how many piercings and tattoos he has/going to get to maintain a good balance to his rocker image.  If he didn't get off as quickly as he did, we were going to have to make moves.

My good friend Jourdan met us out in Wicker Park at this place called Estelles. Some one spent all their money on the jukebox to make sure every NKOTB and Debbie Gibson song got airtime.

Then, we moved on to Crocodile where this dance party sandwich happened.

Enjoying another mid-west brew- Old Style- and the end of a great Chi-Town hang sesh.