We've just returned from Chicago where we spent a few days with our friends Ginny & Randy. Randy is a rabid Green Bay Packers fan and for the past two years, we have met in Green Bay, Wisconsin for a weekend of nutso football fans, tailgate parties and of course, the main event. They fly from California and we drive. We always have lots of fun together, and that's really the main reason we meet (at least for Ginny and me!). This year, we begged and pleaded to go somewhere other than Green Bay. Honestly, when you google "fine dining - Green Bay", you get Arby's. So, the guys settled on Chicago. Randy gave up his Packers for our sake. Bless you Randy.
Chicago is a lovely city. It is so much more civilized than New York. I love New York, but Chicago is much less hectic. It's a city that works (are you listening David Miller??). Navy Pier is a wonderful place to spend an afternoon. Every Saturday night until the end of October, there's a fireworks display and it's a wonderful way to end an evening.
I guess one of the reasons I like Chicago is that it is a city of neighbourhoods. That's the one thing that Toronto does have going for it. Having grown up in Bloor West Village, I love the familiarity of a neighbourhood. Torontonians are either West Enders or East Enders and setting foot on the "other" side of Yonge Street is like being in a foreign country.
Chicago has beautiful boulevards with lots of trees and planters. Their lakefront is beautifully developed and we marvelled at the beaches.
Anyway, we walked, explored, ate, shopped and generally hung out. "The Game" was on Sunday at Soldier Field and it was certainly an experience. First of all, the tickets cost us a small fortune ($700 for Myron and me). According to the tickets, Myron suspected we were in the nosebleed section. Not so. We were in the "defibrillator/catheter-under-the- seat section", because once you made it up there, you were in full cardiac arrest and no one in their right mind would drink anything for fear of having to pee. I think the little ants on the field were actually football players, but I'm not sure. There was an amazing fly-past and I could read the "best before" date on the underbelly of the planes. Then, it started to rain. Then, it started to pour. We descended from on high into the dry concession area and Myron stood in a 45 minute line to get us some ponchos. 3 people before him bought the last ones. Some sweet lady surrendered two of hers to Myron (must have been his roguish manner that got to her) and he gallantly gave them to Ginny and me. Oh wait, no we wrenched them out of his hands. We ascended into the clouds once again (you think I'm joking here?) and huddled together, trying to share the ponchos, with no great success. We were soaking wet by the time we got the rain gear, but we sat out the rest of the game, determined to get every last penny's worth out of those tickets.
Our last evening was spent at a blues club called "Blue Chicago". The lady who was singing with the band was a very healthy, gravelly-voiced, black lady who could really belt 'em. The joint was grotty and smelled of beer, but it was a perfect end to our time with Ginny & Randy.
Our consolation at the end of the trip is knowing that we will be meeting up with them again in San Diego in 6 weeks.
And what the hell does "toddling" mean??
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