Even though the summer days of braiding daisies into your pigtails and dancing barefoot down Main Street are ending. Last (wait, week before last) weekend was beautiful in Chi-town. That’s the answer to the last installment of Dude Where Am I – fuckin Chicago bitches. See the Sears Tower in the back ground?
I’ve been trying to think of a good way to tell the story of my crazy and fun filled weekend in Chicago but I’ve been struggling with finding the time to do so (this is so going be a novel) while all my spare time in these proceeding weeks went to much needed recovery and rejuvenation.
The trip started as a first date dare that went something like this:
“Lets go to Finland.”
“What right now?” I said. “No way. What about Canada, I haven’t been to Toronto yet.”
“Oh I don’t have my birth certificate to get across the boarder.”
“Ha! Good luck with Finland!”
“Ok well then what about Chicago, let’s go to Chicago right now.”
“Now, now?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright.”
So we got in the car and drove to Chicago. At five in the morning. Still a little drunk after an all nighter of awesomely random conversation. Before even sharing a first kiss. Spontaneously, on our first date.
Some where around Grand Rapids, Michigan, half way there, First Date (FD) turned to me and asked, are we really going to Chicago right now? “I mean like, we can turn around if you want.” I thought about it for all of two seconds and replied, “We are soooo committed to Chicago right now. There’s no turning back” I wondered if she even liked me. At eight in the morning. Dead sober and getting sleepy. Before even sharing a first kiss. Spontaneously, on our first date.
We rolled into down town and got a room at the first hotel we saw. The Hilton of Chicago, as it turns out was the largest hotel in the world when built, and still remains in the top 10. Our room was on the sixth floor, the first set of keys we were issued mysteriously demagnetized them selves in the elevator so we had to go back down and get them recoded. Strangely, hommie at the front desk insisted it was our fault for putting the keys in FD’s purse – which had “millions of things that could have demagnetized these keys. Does it have a magnetic clasp? That’ll do it, yes. Your cell phone has like eight magnets in it, one for the earpiece, one fore the speaker phone, you know. You should also be careful keeping credit cards in that purse of yours. There, you’re all set.”
Too tired to argue the point, and frankly just blown away by the absurdity and non-comprehendible quickness of these statements, FD and I took the new keys and crashed almost immediately. We slept till late afternoon. Now well refreshed. In Chicago. Before even sharing a first kiss. Spontaneously, on our first date.
We decided to get some dinner and then take a walk along the water front. Which was super cool – saw all kinds of awesome stuff. We must have walked a good 3 miles before we took a brake on a bench over looking the pier. Then I totally kissed her. It was awesome. We finished off the night making our way back towards the hotel, stopping at several bars along the way.
One bar in particular stands out in my memory. This was funny. It was a champagne bar, they specialized in a world of champagnes and fine wines. I saw something on the list that looked really good – a dry, higly-oaked, Chardonnay. FD ordered a cosmo, which was too strong and was replaced by a champagne cocktail. The bar tender and I got to talking while FD was in the bathroom.
“I can not place your accent, where are you from?” he asks me.
“… New Mexico” I didn’t realize I had an accent, especially one a German bartender would notice.
“Ahh, ye! New Mexico.” Giving me the thumbs up. “Brute. Very nice.” Brute is made in New Mexico if you didn’t know.
We exchanged names, chatted it up a little more about new mex wines and then I got to telling him what I thought of the chardonnay I’d had. I told him it would make a really good eveyday wine – something non-intrusive that goes with anything and would never offend (basic wino bullshit). The German is nodding his head vigorously agreeing. “Yes. Yes. Exactly. The owner selected this wine for the list for that exact reason.” What ever. It’s two in the morning. We’re having a great time, back on the streets of Chicago. Two miles away from the hotel. We took a taxi back to the hotel.
I’ve left out a bunch. Stay tuned for Chi-Town Volume2: The Art Museum. Good times in Chicago, seriously good times.
I had the opertunity to catch the B-Boys in concert on Monday in Detroit. The show was so money! I was down at ground zero, and got a little crushed up against the front railing. 
