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May 30, 2010 / Michelle Ferris

Chicago (May/June 2010) – Matty n Me!

Day 1 – Thursday – May 27, 2010

Heather was our own personal angel. She woke up at 5:20 and drove us to the airport. We picked up Matty at 5:40 and we were off! Both of us were totally giddy. At the airport, Matt got his bottle of wine and a  ton of shampoo, shaving cream, etc. taken away because they were over 3 oz. Our flights were pretty uneventful, overall.

Tornado Shelter / Women's Bathroom

Tornado Shelter / Women's Bathroom

Finding the subway was a funny little journey… we wandered all over the lower levels of the airport till we found a map. But then we were good to go!

Burnham Hotel, nightly, does a free wine tasting between 5 and 6, so we each got a glass of wine. What a nice way to start our stay!

After settling in to our hotel, we walked toward Millenium Park and then cut up toward Canal Street. We started our count of Subways. And no, not the trains. Subway sandwich places. I don’t know how or why this started, but it did. We were amused by the chain restaurants. We vowed not to go into anything that we could just as easily find in Seattle. In the spirit of non-Seattle stores, instead of Walgreens, we went to CVS to get some vodka, juice, and other supplies for the week.

Both of us were starting to get pekid, and our wanderings for food were leading us nowhere… we walked and walked and walked, and eventually came across a little restaurant called Havana. A pan-latin restaurant that had live music and what looked like great food! We were not disappointed.

Havana Restaurant

Havana Restaurant

They even accommodated my gluten-free diet! It was really nice to be taken care of so well. Matt got paella, which I tried and decided I needed to cook for him (mine is better, though I am definitely adding Chorizo to mine next time – what a nice touch!), and I got pulled pork on a round of jalapeno mashed potatoes and creamed corn. It came out looking like the ultimate cupcake. We got plantains, too, and chips and salsa. I was stoked. Our server, Sarah, was amazing, too! How nice to get such great service – and from someone with so many tables! *applause*

We walked back home and relaxed in our room a while before going out and exploring again to find bars. And we realized that there just aren’t really bars in the financial district (later, we found this area is called “The Loop”). We talked with drunk guy who told us to go to Elephant and Castle. He was hilarious – he had just got done with a long run, and was drunk so he could, “put back calories, liquid, and carbs from running.” That’s my kind of runner. A few blocks away, we met a nice Latino guy who suggested we go to Miller’s.

Outside Millers, there was a guy with this amazing white dandelion-esque afro. It was really impressive. And a guy outside who looked like he was wearing some weird apron thing and was being weird in the street. Iiiinteresting….. There were photos on the wall of Tony Bennett and the restaurant owner in the 60’s and then again in the 90’s. Neato. We grabbed a seat at the window and looked at local papers, but didn’t see anything to do. So we shot the shit, drank beer, white russians (because I had heartburn, so I was working around that), he had Jameson. Life was good.

We went back to our hotel and ended up talking in bed until 3am.


Day 2 – Friday – May 28, 2010

I woke up at 7am (5am PST), went back to sleep till 830. Since Matty was still sound asleep, I got up and walked to the French Market a mile away. Got spring rolls, gluten free mousse boob, and salami.

Moose Boob!

Moose Boob!

On the walk back, I met a nice lady from here. She helped me take a picture on the bridge, even though she was running late to work. Everyone is nice here.

Matt was finally awake and cleaned up. It was 11am. We took off.

We walked to the contemporary art museum. Weird velveeta people art scared us. We left our contribution at museum in the shadowbox and drawing our meal at Havana. Matt is a better artist than me. Mine was NOT appetizing.

Doggie Flow Chart at the Museum

Doggie Flow Chart at the Museum

Art at the Museum

Art at the Museum

Interesting art. Vito Arucci. Lorna Simpson. L. Jabbar. Entire room of sock puppets. We did not get it. Screw the screwed into the wall. FUCKING WEIRD VIDEO that demonstrated artist’s anxiety. Weird angry leprechaun screaming and grunting and yubbityabiitying. Long druglord storyboard. The cat did it. I realize that this paragraph doesn’t make much sense, but there it is. Boom.

Went to the water and saw the lake. Super blue. People swimming. Proceeded on to the park to the Park Grill. Had gazpacho that was pretty good. And Matt had an Oscar Meyer turkey wrap, which was edible. And we ordered the worst hummus I have ever had in my entire life. Made from canned beans, looked like applesauce, and had no spices. Luckily our wonderful server, George, removed it from the bill. It was not edible. Not even after trying to drown it in Tabasco. My poor sphincter would be feeling the repercussions of that effort later, I was sure of that.

We saw where Obama gave his acceptance speech at Millenium Park and saw this weird jellybean sculpture thingy. I think it’s an artist interpretation of a fake tit. Or perhaps a lima bean. Still in debate about this one.

Walked back toward the hotel and got a pickle from Jimmy John’s. I realized it was a chain, but… man I wanted that pickle. Matt decided that popped collars were not in fashion. Then he decided he needed to pop his collar. Such a magnificent turnaround.

Hotel. Wine. Relaxed. Strategized. Google made me mad. I knew I had to just get out and talk to people.

Walked to Buddha Lounge. Never got there. Talked to Matt, the hot valet with plugs and his clueless counterpart, he told us a ton of places to go. We tried to go to the Red Headed Piano Bar. They didn’t like our shoes. Went to Chili’s to satiate Matt’s inner Kirstie Alley. I ate an entire rack of ribs. Whoops. And my sides. And his. A rib fell out of my mashed potatoes. It even shocked the management staff. They took half the price off the bill. Hell yeah. Here’s to weird food karma.

Went to The Joynt. Awesome. Until it was douchey. Girls kept trying to dance with us and I think were in love with Matt. We ate Vicodin. Whoops? Dancing with the girls was like trying to imagine taking someone from a Naf party and taking them to Cowgirls Inc. It was two worlds colliding. Quoth Matt, “No dear, we do not always dancce with our arms over our head.” His theory? Bud light bottles are filled with helium. Whenever they have one in their hand, their arms go up.

The music got shitty. And that’s when the night got interesting…

We took off and headed out in search of whatever until we came across it. Saw, again, the biggest fucking McDonalds ever. Stopped by a fountain. Went looking for Soundbar. Found the Powerhouse. It was the biggest legalized frat party we had ever seen. Horror. Oh the horror. Too many white people… that’s when you know it’s bad. Left. Came across two hot drunk guys who gave us a “code” to Crescendo. Looked for Crescendo. Came across some hot girls who took us there, but did not help us get in. They were VP. We were tourists. Oh well. Couldn’t get in. Went around the corner to Soundbar. Ran across a big fucking drag queen with hot arm candy. Soundbar fail. Ran across a gal who lives a state away and just got jumped and mugged. FML. Sad. I let her borrow my phone and gave her smokes to ease her pain.

We started wandering to get away from people, because at that point, we had been wandering a long time, couldn’t get in anywhere, and were both just absolutely fed up with it. Now, BOOZE. Insert. Here. Immediately. Ran across some nice people in front of a bar that was closed. They led us to the Alehouse on Clark with the “stop and drink” sign over it.

And thank you, we did.

Met Patrick and Michael, who cook at Zed. Michael bought me a tequila shot. Patrick talked me into coming to the restaurant. Matt was done. I was was fucking drunk. We left. Pondered a cab. Instead, walked and took lots of pictures. Got the hotel and passed out at 4:30.


Day 2 – Saturday – May 29, 2010

I am shocked. I slept until 11. Fucking wow. Got cleaned up. Ate the house. Fucking drums in the fucking parade for fucking memorial day. A parade that just stopped so that they can get an ambulance in to pick someone up that we’ll be memorializing next year. Lovely.

Off to Frontera (oops we never made it there). We stopped to get coffee, and walked to the French Market. We tried some pickles and chatted with the vendor about “flight karma.” I wanted the pickles, but needed to find out if there was a fee to check bags first. There was a raw restaurant in there and I really wanted the raw pizza, but it wasn’t gluten free, so instead I got the collard green burritos. They had no soy, dairy, meat, gluten, AND they were raw. I have no idea how they did it – it was superb.

Armed with raw burritos, we left and continued on our exploration of Canal Street and beyond. We saw an Architecture Fail shaped like a penis. I took a picture, to be sure. We walked and walked along Kinsey St. and came across a chocolate factory (we were wondering what smelled like chocolate chip cookies), and beyond that, somehow found the Funky Buddha Lounge. Amusingly, the night we were looking for it, we probably wouldn’t have gotten in due to the “athletic shoes” rule. Good thing we got sidetracked that night, I guess. We paused there and I nommed on the collard green burritos. Little did I know I was signing myself up for a big pot of doom.

We walked on and on, and were getting further and further into the ghetto, projects, and industrial area. Found ginormous thistles along the way that poked me, but were really pretty. I didn’t know they were so pretty, those little asshole plants. It seemed like we were in an endless strip of Chicago Tribune buildings, so at the bridge, we hung a right to head back toward the city and civilization.

Turns out, after poisoning your body all night, eating something good for you isn’t the best idea. I was careening into a deep “I’m-going-to-puke-all-over-the-place” hangover. The sun hurt. So much nausea. We stopped for me to rest by the “Do Not Enter” sign in the projects. It was ghetto enough in that area that the lampposts all had flower baskets attached, but no flowers in any of them. They looked like giant Xena boobies. Or perhaps Ghengis Khan helmets. I regrouped and we kept on truckin’ toward the hotel.

We popped into a Kwik-e-Mart so I could get an Orangina, but upon walking in, realized almost the entire place was filled with booze. And it smelled like booze. And I almost lost my lunch again. I had to cover my nose as I desperately searched for the sodas. I bought it and was on my way out the door, and wondered where Matt was. Then he popped out of the store behind me. “You were in there with me?” “Yeah, I… wow. Hahaha.” Apparently my powers of observation were lacking luster.

I had to use the restroom, so we went to the monolith McDonalds… where I almost puked again. I was in the bathroom, and unknown to me was the drama that was unfolding in the main eating area with Matt. Everyone was looking at Matt like he was a terrorist. The white people were looking at him weird, the Russians were looking at him weird, the black people were looking at him weird. Matt, the Terrorist: Picture it. I know. I can too. He watched the news and waited for me to suit dying and learned that the BP topkill failed. Everything in this McDonalds was going horribly awry. There were a bunch of snooty stupid 16 year olds and there was a girl screaming, “God damn it Josh, I can’t believe you’re not buying me a fucking cheeseburger. Why aren’t you buying me a fucking cheeseburger.” Her friend was so sick of hearing about it that she put her head down on the table to try to block it all out. She looked like Amanda Seyfried from Mean Girls. Total Mean Girl moment. Matt was so sick of hearing it that he almost bought her a burger just to shut her the fuck up. Use it as a ball gag. Who knew burgers would be such useful tools.

By the powers of Jesus and magic I made it back to the hotel without dying. I promptly laid down on my bed, turned up the AC, and napped. I had a 20 minute power nap, and Matt came back. He was equipped with Jimmy John’s for himself, as well as pickles for me. They were delicious. Amazing. Life-giving. Long live the pickle. On  his journey to Jimmy John’s there were fire engines everywhere. All of Chicago tried to kill itself all at once. There was a lady half in the sidewalk and half in the street and firemen were trying to spatula her off the ground. There were four old fat Jewish people in front of Matt that were taking forever… and “Oh wait, I need to get a dessert.” And shuffled to get dessert. And shuffled back. With pants up to his nipples. She had no chin. And they were playing Ghostbusters, which was hilarious, since we had been talking about Ghostbusters less than a day ago.

Matt ate his giant triple-decker turkey sandwich and we watched a couple episodes of House MD. I was back up to 90% recovered, poured us each a drink, and we continued on our journey for the evening.

We had no change! Twice in one day we had to stop in a McDonalds. This time, for change. Last time, for a bathroom. We caught the blue line toward O’Hare and got off on Damon. It was at about 8:30 by now. We were in Wicker Park. Such a cute area! Great little shops and bars, restaurants and hipsters, drag queens and bikers. Hats that look like cakes. We stopped at Swig and got a couple drinks and I had chicken skewers and tater tots. Everything was quite tasty.

From Swig, we caught a cab to Halstead / Boystown (the gay district). On the way, we saw a cute Asian who Matt thought was a John (he had to explain what this was to me). I decided he was probably an otter pop. Yay! New coin termed. It was SO gay.

Our cab drove us by the Japanese Cultural Arts Center. I swear it was a crematorium though. Happily burning up Japs since 1942. It’s run by Nazis. Oh yes, bring your friends, too! The whole pack of gays are welcome.

We went to Side Track, which was the biggest bar in the world that didn’t know what to do with itself. It had room after room after room and outdoor and indoor and bars and ramps and stairs, but no dance floor. No nothing. And gays of every shape and size. Old, young, skinny, average, pretty, not, furry, leather, bald, and tall (lots of tall – Matt and I felt like Sam & Frodo). Just lots and lots of places to wander through, to, and stand around in. We left after one drink each.

We wandered Halstead and saw a boy in a strange navy blue cowlneck thing and spandex pants and hot pink fishnet hotpants. He looked like a power-bottom Spiderman. It was horrifying. When he opened his mouth his tits fell out.

Matt and I quoted the “My son is gay” video clip all night long. It was perfect. So fitting. “Gaaaaay.” I was sure that we were going to get beaten up – the fag hag and the homo-hating-homo, for using such language. We stopped in a porn shop so I could try on some crazy mongolian ruler hat. There was a neon light sign above another – one was the first store name, the other was the other’s. Together, it was “RAM A Gay Treasure.” I’m quite sure that many people on Halstead took that quite literally and did just that tonight.

Some little gay boy on a porch step sang the Mr. Roger’s theme song. I larfed. And substituted “gayborhood” for the rest of the song. Gay. So gay. My god so much gay. We didn’t really know what to do with all the gay.

We passed Subway #11 on our way to (though we didn’t know it) Jake’s, which was a dive for frat boys, more or less, where all the straight people come to suck face. We had an interesting conversation about Media and girls and sexuality. Thank you Britney Spears.

I was pooped, but Matt still had a lot of life in him. We caught a cab to Clark Street Alehouse, which at an earlier time in the night, is a douchier place. The cab driver was fucking awesome, and gave us some of his cherries and grapes. Om nom was good. Thank you, Romanian cabbie. We had a drink at the bar and Matt tried to leapfrog Marmaduke, the giant Great Dane. What was it with blondes being in the way everywhere we went?

I grabbed us a cab and we went back to the hotel. Matt could have still gone out, but we ended up shooting the shit in the hotel room the rest of the night. I ate an entire pound of edamame. Wanted salt. It held salt. Om nom. Cow. I flicked pennies at Matt. We made more fun of Kirstie Alley and Oprah. Matt’s butt was Oprah. I’m pretty sure the stomach is Kirstie Alley. We’ll get the celebrity mapping of all our starts worked out soon enough.

Day 4 – Sunday – May 30, 2010

In our recap of Saturday, neither of us has any idea whatsoever what the fuck we were talking about last night. And Matt feels like I did yesterday. Which makes me really sad for him. He may end up jumping out the window. Splat. And another gay to memorialize on memorial day weekend. The harsh casualties from vacationing with each other. Last night, we had decided that we’re great traveling partners, but that no one else should be subjected to seeing us travel together. Theirs heads would implode. With Chicago, it was give and take. We weren’t ready for Chicago, and Chicago wasn’t ready for us. Who will one-up the other next? No one knows.

Ready to start the day, and with a hankering for Pizza Uno. Gluten coma, here I come!!! Matt was ready to die. After wandering in circles for a few blocks, we found Pizzeria Uno and put our name in for a table. Bloomingdale’s was next. We needed nothing. But their air conditioning was primo. Matt needed a cooldown. Plus, they had salad spinners. I pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed. And then the sales clerk came over and poked fun at me. It did not diminish my joy. It was written all over my face.

At Pizzeria Uno, we got iced teas and I got a deep dish pizza, and it was fucking glorious. It was delicious! I hadn’t thought about doing onions thin-sliced like that (by using a Cuisinart) on a pizza – it was so good! Matt started coming out of his brokenness and we made our way home. We saw a mangy pigeon (for the second time) that looked like the most homeless pigeon I have ever seen. It was so mangy and dirty and greasy and it had a bouffant like a mohawk / Elvis. We tried to take a picture of it, but it ran uphill away from us. You win this time, mangy pigeon. But we will meet again…

Matt needed a nap badly, so I left him to recover in the room while I went for a long walk that took me by a big train station with owl mermaid thingies on top, which were neat. I walked to Grant Park and found a monstrous fountain, and then another pretty fountain and pool – I wish this was in Seattle! I would eat lunch here every day. There was a chess/checkers setup for random people to come meet and play, which was really neat. I kinda wanted to play, but not enough to do it. It is so warm out today! Motivation kinda got zapped out of me. I found giant lions with hockey helmets on. Lots of heat, lots of great sculptures. I was surprised at how much cooler the trees and grass made it. I’m so thankful that they appreciate their greenery here! I love it! After about an hour of wandering aimlessly, I made my way back to the hotel. I could feel the cold air conditioning blowing from under the door onto my feet. Yes, please.

Matt was his usual bouncy self, which defied the laws of nature, as he was totally obliterated less than an hour ago. He showered, I showered, and he went downstairs to get wine.

Matt, “Are there any gluten free restaurants in Chicago?”

Concierge, “Hmmm (aside)… Fattest city in America……… She may have some problems.”

And with that, we went to Zed 451 on our accidentally favorite street, Clark Street. Zed was amazing. Dishes: Quinoa, meat shaved on our plates, Moroccan chicken, cucumber salad, mahi mahi, duck, steak, salmon, crab balls (less obscene than you’re thinking, I swear), seaweed salad, many cheeses and salamis, pickles, chicken salad, tomato & balsamic, red wine poached pears, spinach salad, mushroom bisque, tomato soup, breads, pita, olives, pickled onions, roasted vegetables, and.. and… and…….. dear god. Just don’t the martinis. Everything else was just glorious. And it was the first time someone called Matt out on something he always wondered about his laugh. (“Does he really laugh like that?”)

Post-Zed we oompa loompad ourselves back toward the hotel and toward Andy’s for live jazz. We took the roundabout way and found the super duper retail strip and realized that shoppers are sloppy eaters. Where are you, mangy pigeon, when we need you?

Andy’s had a $10 cover, at which we paused, and went in anyway. And we paused on getting a table, and got one anyway. But not before I made an entrance and announced my arrival by smashing into the ventilator system. We got our table in the very back corner. Looking back, I think they were trying to hide us. They tossed us in the corner behind the Asians. No one would find us behind all those popped collars. Matt popped his up out of respect.

We got gin martinis and Glenlivet on the rocks. He had a few, I had a few. I had tea. We listened to four hours of jam session jazz, and it was glorious. There was a singer we wanted to keep. And one that made me miss my sister, because Melody is just plain better. I decided which musicians would be forming my personal Mariachi jazz band for my home entertainment. We saw an escort, though I still think it was the guy’s son. Matt is unflappable in his belief, however. I had a weird booger in my drink. I did not drink it. Matt dissected it. We had an expensive, wonderful night. Wouldn’t take back a calorie of it.

When we got out, the thunderstorm had started. By halfway back, there was lighting, thunder, and a drizzle starting. It was muggy. We were both totally relaxed and decided it was a great way to end the night. Talk about some serious R&R!

Yet another weird coincidence… we turned on the TV, and lo and behold, Lucky Number Slevin is just starting. We didn’t talk much about movies on this trip, but somehow two out of maybe 10 mentioned (Ghostbusters & Lucky Number Slevin) both came on. What the fuck. Apparently Chicago is the city that makes sense. Psychic messages saying, “Moooooove Heeeeere.” We fell asleep to Josh Hartman in a towel for 20 minutes. Om nom nom nom yes please, what good dreams will come of this.


Day 5 – Monday – May 31, 2010

Woke up to an awesome thunderstorm with lighting all over the place. And an alarming number of fire trucks in the rain. We sat around in the room for a while while I googled the shit out of Chicago clubs and still came up empty handed. What the hell. Oh well. After getting cleaned up, we caught the Blue Line to Damon to explore Wicker Park and Bucktown (well, Bucktown just kinda happened, but, whatever) (“Oh… Bucktown. Well, there ya go. Nobody’s open and everybody runs. This is not the place for me.”). Nothing really was open, but we did end up eating at a restaurant (Northside Grill (?)) that really should exist in Seattle. The openness of it and natural elements were well put together. We ate some heart attack food and were on our way. We channeled our inner Kirstie Alley again, then walked up and down streets but everything was pretty much closed. I found the Chicago location of my hat shop from the U-District, which amused me. We caught the train back to our hotel and cooled off. We both felt Yoda-sticky (any time I hear the word “moist,” I think of the texture of Yoda’s skin…), and needed to cool off and peel out of our skins. Bleh. Humidity.

We showered and were awful tourists. We stayed in the room for a good two hours while I looked up things to do and places to go online. I also put out another smattering of calls for help on Craigslist. For being on Google all day, I sure failed at finding stuff to do that wasn’t douchey. Sad. But… CRAIGSLISTERS FOR THE WIN! I heart Craigslist so much. The suggestions sent to us over the course of our stay were:

We got to as much as we could of the list, but were barely able to nick it, really. There is so much to do here! I’m just glad Craigslist folks had such fabulous suggestions! Hurrah! At least google helped us find a decent restaurant. We walked toward the library, down State Street, to Tamarind. They had Chinese, Vietnamese, Thai, and Japanese. Their menu had 187 items. I was completely overwhelmed. It wasn’t the best I’ve had, but it wasn’t the worst. It was pretty fair food. I just really wanted some Asian food. But then, when do I not…

From there we walked to Harrison and State and caught the Red Line toward Howard and got off on Fullerton. It was about a 20 block walk past De Paul (?) University to get to where we were going (Green Dolphin Street), and about 30 once we turned around and walked back in the right direction at the last turn. Whoops. Me and my navigation skills, in for the win? Or not. We saw two rats and a big, huge, terrifyingly mean pit bull. I swore it was going to jump the fence and chew off our faces. Matt jumped about three feet in the air. Luckily, on the way back, someone had brought the dog inside so as not to scare the living shit out of us again.

We crossed the old bridge and lo and behold, there was Green Dolphin Street. Huzzah! I had brought my leftovers with me because there was a bunch left still, thinking I would give it to a homeless person along the way, but now ended up having to pitch it. Where are all the homeless people in Chicago? In Seattle, it’s like you can’t get away from it. Here, I couldn’t even find one to give my food to! So weird…

There wasn’t even a cover at the party, for which I was super stoked. And the drinks weren’t even that expensive! We each had a bunch and ended up paying about $50 per person. Drinks were $7 each? For a club like that, I was shocked. And totally stoked.

They had two big rooms, a separate bar that had a piano in it with a tavern feel to it, a huge outdoor area with patios and chairs and tables and (!!!) a BBQ. They were grilling things up for the first couple hours of the night, which totally tripped me out. What an incredible venue!

They were playing great deep house in the smaller room to start things off – the big room opened at 12:30. I danced and danced and danced. And there were some great dancers there! I accidentally got sucked into a dance circle, which was embarrassing, but awesome. Can’t say I have ever done that before. Such a happy, supportive dance community! We boogied and boogied. The main room opened. We danced more in there. Biiiiiiiig speakers. Front left, right where we belonged. There was a big dance circle up front, too, and amazing dancers. There was even a pop & lock guy (the only one I saw), who I later found out was from L.A. I got pulled into that dance circle twice. Unfortunately, doing drops and whatnot were out at that point because I was just too damned drunk. Better to err on the side of not falling and breaking open my face on the dance floor. It was a glorious night.

We took a pause to go outside, but when we went back in (it was 3:30am at this point), I realized I was totally done. I had nothing left in me to give to the music. We hopped in a cab and went home. I don’t know if it’s just my head, but it seems like all the cab drivers in Chicago are really cool. They drive fast, they are friendly, and they don’t overcharge (or overcharge by default – going slow, taking shitty routes, etc). I was pleased. I was also pleased to get in bed. I really wanted to take a shower, but couldn’t cope with the idea of being awake for any longer. Bed. Sleep. Out like a light.


Day 6 – Tuesday – June 1, 2010

Oh, waaaaah! I don’t want to go home. I looked up homes, jobs, Asian groceries (yes, it’s that important to my having a happy existence), and more. This is all looking quite feasible. I think Chicago may be my next move.

I can’t believe I woke up without a hangover. We drank our happy butts off, but apparently we danced all of it out! We looked like we’d slipped and fallen in the river by the time we left. So soggy! So I woke up feeling amazing.

We (no, really, we really are this time) are going to Frontera for lunch, then it’s off to the airport. Ok, so we didn’t get to Frontera. Sad! We went to a little cafe for sandwiches and I got extra pickles by batting my eyes and asking nicely. I will do almost anything for a good dill pickle! Picklewhore! From there, mad dash to the Blue Line and off to O’Hare airport.

An uneventful ride and an uneventful airport. Our flights were uneventful, too, except that we went from Chicago to Detroit, then on to Seattle. That was about as much of Detroit as I wanted to see. There were more trees there than I expected though. We played lots of trivia on the plane, which Matt consistently won. He’s goooood! I was sad to come home, but glad to be home, too. I knew we were close when the weather started getting shitty outside. Go figure.

Heather was kind enough to pick us up from the airport, and when I got home, Jesse made a fabulous stir fry. I am so glad to see my honey! And so glad to be home! And so glad to have been able to go on this trip with Matt. It was absolutely a blast. The perfect trip!

Chicago, for the win.

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