My prior 28.55 Hours in Chicago can be found here.
7:15 pm
Was on the Orange Line "L"¹ going back to the Loop from Vito & Nick's Pizzeria, listening to the endless safety announcements: "If you see something, say something," and "There is planned work between Cermak-Chinatown and Grand," when I heard that "Soliciting and gambling are prohibited on CTA vehicles." I thought to myself . . .
"Soliciting? How does that work . . . and then on the train?!"
"Gambling? On the train? What, a dice game? Have I entered into a Guys and Dolls wormhole?"
8:21 pm
There comes a time in every man’s life when he needs to try to appreciate jazz. When you reach a certain age, attending live music can no longer include the likes of Five Finger Death Punch, Metallica, Clash cover bands, or any kind of hip-hop. God willing, I've never come to enjoy Country music, which only really leaves folk, classical, or jazz. And listening to jazz just seems cooler.
So I found myself sitting at the bar at the Jazz Showcase ($30.10) drinking a Flackhattan with crushed ice, waiting to hear the sophisticated sounds of the "Saxophonists Eric Schneider & Natalie Scharf Quintet" (I’m thinkin’ they really wanted to let me know they were a saxophone act, and there were two of them.)
Eric, Natalie, and friends hit the stage fashionably late as it appears good jazz cannot be rushed, and its musicians do not have Amtrak's punctuality. Good stuff, with a big band slant (think Gershwin and Dorsey), which is fine with me, as the whole bebop, squeaky stuff has a nails on a chalkboard, Bartok quality that I can do without.
The pianist wore a fedora, and Ms. Scharf a short skirt, which added to the authenticity and showmanship of the performance. On the other hand, while having a good embouchure, Eric had too many meandering stories interrupted by awkward pauses. I’d see them again, but not if they’re only going to play for 70 minutes when they promised me 90 (and at least Thibaudet provided an encore).
9:41 pm
On the walk home, it was so damn cold (3°), and I was walking so damn fast; I blew right by my hotel and ended up in Daley Plaza. It was for the best so I could view the massive sculpture, The Picasso, created by the eponymous sculptor. I had seen it before, but by night, it had a strikingly ghostly quality. I lingered briefly, took a photo, and then sprinted back to the hotel (and a hot shower).
Monday
9:30 am
While Tony Bourdain and I share a New Yorker's ear for bullshit, a cynic's skepticism, and a gourmand's indifference to doughnuts, we both decided to visit the Doughnut Vault. When I checked the place out online, I saw that it had over a thousand versions of the same interior photo. When I showed up, I realized why, the place was the size of a medium-sized closet. The only person ahead of me on line mentioned that normally there is a line out the door, which could have been an issue on this 5° degree morning. However, in this case, it separated "the wheat from the chaff."²
Since there is no place in this shoebox to sit and enjoy, I bought a Chocolate Christmas and took it across the street to the austere but beautiful Merchandise Mart lobby, where I enjoyed it with a Dunkin’ (hot) coffee.
10:15 am
Walked out the front door of the Mart and reviewed either "the Pez Hall of Fame" or the bronze bust of the founder of every bankrupt department store.
11:00 am
In an effort to write better prose, I could take a course at a local college or hire a professional editor. Instead, I decided to visit the American Writer's Museum.
The obstructionist lobby security guard, the terse ticket clerk, and the $16 admission gave me pause, but in the end, this place was alright. There was a disturbingly significant amount of space devoted to fantasy role-playing games that included something called LARP (Live Action Role Play), where it appears grown men don robes, weird hats, and pretend to be somebody else.
There was a quote on the wall, that I found quite inspirational. It made me contemplate my own writing, realize I had a ways to go, and, more importantly, no matter what some readers think, I need to keep at it.
3:41 pm
I decided to let The Berghoff be my guide to finding some good late-afternoon eats. So I looked for a giant neon sign, entered the door beneath it, and asked the Miller's Pub bartender for half a slab. You see, Frank Sinatra and I share many traits: a conspicuous masculinity, deep blue eyes, and an affinity for good BBQ. Whenever the Chairman of the Board visited the City of Big Shoulders, he made it a point to eat some of Miller's "World Famous Baby Back Ribs."
5:14 pm
Naptime
6:41 pm
My hotel reservation included a $21 food and beverage credit, which was burning a hole in my pocket. At the hotel bar called the Depot, I could have used it for a little pre-hilarity sustenance but wisely decided to put it towards a dangerously smooth Bourbon on the Boulevard (Bourbon, Aperol, Amaro Nonino, Lemon, Orange Twist). As you see soon after, the woman next to me at the bar offered me the cheese portion of her charcuterie board. I tried to make small talk with her as a thank you, but she really wanted to stare at her phone.
8:00 pm
For much the same reason for visiting the America's Writer Museum, I decided to visit the Laugh Factory ($22.27). When I entered, it quickly became apparent that management puts all the money into the comedy and not the facility and that the carpet was cleaned by the same outfit that cleaned the carpet at Orchestra Hall.
I settled in and immediately went to work on my two-drink minimum by ordering a can of Old Style beer, with my server suggesting that I turn it into a Chicago Handshake. Since I had previously visited Glasgow and now knew not to ask for a Glasgow Kiss, I was a little wary. That is until she informed me of what it was: a shot of Jeppson's Malört washed down by a can Old Style, which certainly sounded more appetizing than a headbutt.
Jeppson's Malört is a wormwood-flavored liqueur that, for some reason, is quite popular in Chicago. After drinking it, I realized its purpose is to place such an unpleasant taste in your mouth, that the Old Style tastes that much better. There was an upside though; it satisfied the second drink of the two-drink minimum.
The four-act show was quite funny. Oddly each act was less funny than the last. The third act walked on the stage using a blind man's cane, with everyone unsure if it was part of the act (it wasn't). The final act did, though, provide a very memorable Thomas Jefferson impression: "How can I be racist? My son is black!"
9:45 pm
A post-hilarity drink was in order, and I had planned to use a subscriber's recommendation to attend the Bamboo Room at Three Dots and a Dash. Unfortunately, while sitting on a southbound Red Line train reviewing its online bona fides, I noticed the Bamboo Room was closed on Mondays. Considering it was 0°, this could have been for the best, so I headed back to the barn.
Tuesday
11:30 am
Besides Chicago-style lasagna/pizza, the other must-eat Chicago delicacy is the Italian Beef Sandwich. They say the best can be had at Al's Beef in Little Italy (where else would it be located?). It's the typical Italian eatery, and by that, I mean photos of every famous paisan who ever passed through Chicago covering its walls. If I were you, I'd order mine with hot peppers (otherwise, it may be a little bland) and dry (otherwise, it may be a super hot mess).
2:25 pm
Well fortified, I departed Union Station, en route K.C. ($121 - coach), confirmed in my belief that there are only three or four real cities in the United States, and Chicago is one of them.
Lodgings
The original plan was to use the Hotel Tonight app³ to grab some hotel by the short hairs and get us some last-minute luxurious but economical digs. While it appears they offer some good deals, I found that the one offered by Expedia for the Canopy by Hilton Chicago Central Loop ($143/night tax inc., in addition to a $21 food credit and $22 in Expedia rewards) was too good to pass up - a great Chicago location near Union Station, all at Kansas City prices.
Endnotes: I wanted to provide some very specific details that, while vaguely interesting, did not contribute to the overall narrative. Perhaps just wait until the end to enjoy.
¹ The "L" allows contactless credit card payment of fares (tap at the turnstile and go), as did Sydney (but definitely not LA or Auckland) when I recently visited.
²"His winnowing fork is in his hand to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his barn, but he will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire.” Matthew 3:12 and Luke 3:17. Ouch!!!! Btw: Both verses are identical . . . what are the odds?
³ Use Promo Code "MFLACK13" when you book on Hotel Tonight, and you'll get $25 off your booking (and so will I).
Another great post Lieutenant! Love the 7 minute format. I must say, I thought you were tougher than the single digit weather which seems to have broken you down 😃