Bobcats in Chicago or Elevator, Elevator, We Got the Shaft!

If it's March this must be Chicago, The City of Broad Shoulders, The Windy City, That Toddlin' Town, The Pothole Capital of Not Just This Country But the Universe. Ah yes, Chicago. Their new tourism slogan: "Come for the cuisine, stay for the angioplasty!" More on this later, but first who went, why we went and where the first bloodletting occurred. As many of you (1 or 2 anyway) no doubt recall from my post on the subject, http://aging-disgracefully.blogspot.com/2008/05/there-will-be-blues-part-two.html, this was not the first time the Bobcats have darkened the doorstep of this fabled city. It was however a first for all of the infamous Bobcat 6 (yes the same Bocat 6 that French Polynesians are under direct orders to shoot to kill) ventured to Chi Town as a unit. There were of course, several auxilliary Bobcat alums like Mel, Dave, Val and Brett on hand, but they were not nearly as much fun, or stupid. Really, Andy, Mike, Woody, Marilyn, Fran, Tim and Mary you should join us sometime. You don't know what your missing, although cardiac arrest, industrial strength hangovers and jail time may not be your cup of tea.

To start with Sandy and I picked up Craig (Bean) and Cathy (I Am Really Out of Stories This Time) Bennett at their home in Vermilion, Ohio. The trip there was pretty uneventful and we traversed Ohio, Indiana (motto: "WHERE DID ALL THESE DEER COME FROM, DAMMIT?") and and arrived uneventfully in Chicago.

We arrived in the city and got off the Dan Ryan Expressway at Ohio Street and began looking for our hotel. Our hotel, which we were staying at a discounted rate thanks to my son in law Dave, was called the Hotel Felix and had just opened that day. We were among the first guinea pigs, er, I mean customers, they had. If you've never stayed at a newly opened hotel, I highly recommend the experience, simply for the unpredictability of it all. One of the funnier things happened when the cab driver just gave us a kind of a glazed look when we asked him to take us to the Hotel Felix. I've seen this look before when telling people jokes. It usually means "And the punchline is...?" We took a lot of cabs this trip since we parked in the hotel parking lot (motto: Doesn't everyone charge $5,000 a night for parking with no in/out priveleges?) but that wasn't bad since everything was pretty close to our hotel.

Upon our arrival, and after waiting about 37 years for the new staff, to figure out the new computerized room key activating machine, we finally made it to our rooms where naturally, the keys did not work. But this was quickly and pleasantly rectified (the hotel manager in training was taken out back and shot) and soon we were on our way to get a Chicago style deep dish pizza that Cathy had her heart set on. Her mission was to try every unique food item in the city within 24 hours. The rest of us of course grudgingly complied.

After having a not so wonderful experience with a pizza chain that shall remain nameless, but will call hypothetically "Gino's East" Craig and I were somewhat apprehensive, but we need not have worried. We went to a place called Giordano's (and we managed to only have to stop total strangers and ask for directions once, the directions we got from the "new" hotel staff doesn't count, since Giordano's was literally a stone's throw from the hotel). A Giordano's deep dish pizza was a totally wonderful experience and a particularly good choice if you are well into your 50's, dead tired from travel and plan on going to sleep right after the pizza. Beer helps immensely. We met up with Mel and Dave and Mel's sorority sister Jill and her fiancee and got our tickets to the Derby bout and reimbursed her for our's and Rose, Dude, Brett and Val's tickets. The tickets seemed a tad pricey for an evening of watching your daughter get beaten to a pulp, but you only go around once right? After the usual pleasantries we went back to the hotel to sleep as we were essentially broke.

We had planned to sleep in a little Saturday morning, but a convention of jackhammer operators in the street outside our room got us up, to quote my little girl, "at the butt crack of dawn." I have no idea where that analogy comes from, but it expresses the proper sentiment. The plan for Saturday was to meet with Mike (Dude) and Rose (Have I shown you these 212 pictures of a: my son, b: my other son, c: my grandson or d: my big toe?) Doudican. The plan was for me to drive to Brett's house somewhere north of the city with, of course, the kind, helpful and totally unsolicited help of my companions. The drive went something like this:

Sandy "Turn right"
Cathy "Turn left"
Bean "Go straight"

All of course at the same time, except for when someone would say, "turn right at that intersection we just passed!" Consequently we arrived at Brett's about 16 hours later. Once the final couple of the Bobcat 6 had joined us, some confusion quickly erupted because of the time difference between our time: 10 a.m. Eastern, Chicago time: 9:00 a.m. Central and Rose time: 4:37 p.m. Mars. The morning plan was to have "to die for" chocolate croissants at Rose's insistence, then walk around Wicker Park to enjoy several quaint children's shops to browse for "grandchild" items. Since Sandy and I are sans grandchild, this was much fun for us. On a more positive note, I did discover that there is quite a market for lullaby CD's set to the melodies of the classics. You know, Brahms, Mozart and Pink Floyd. Yes todays toddlers can be lulled into dreamland to the smooth and mellow sounds of such timeless tunes as "Comfortably Numb", "Another Brick in the Wall" and my favorite "Shine on You Crazy Diamond". Cathy and Bean made a major toy find for little boys find when they uncovered a little harmless looking rubber ball, which when squeezed like a stress ball, brought an eruption of little pink, plastic and disgusting looking worms in a gelatinous substance from the top of the ball. Perfect for little Parker, although, Scott if you're reading this don't expect Parker to actually see this ball, as I think your father is going to conveniently "lose it".

Then it was off to lunch downtown at a place called "Portillo's" which serves every industrial strength artery clogging food known to man. Cathy, Bean, Sandy and Rose had to try a Chicago style hot dog. It is really a complete meal on a bun with everything from tomatoes, pickles and sport peppers to celery salt, and oh yes, a hot dog. It did however lack the neon green relish which I thought were required but it was a minor point. They were great, I know because I had one later that evening after the Roller Derby bout at about 2 a.m. our time, 1 a.m. Chicago time and June 23rd Rose time. But at lunch Dude and I ventured into what was for me new territory. An italian beef sandwich, and I think I may have found a new love. Spiced juicy beef with unknown veggies and peppers which render this sandwich taste bud singeing, lip tingling beauty and a cardiolist's nightmare. In other words, don't miss it.

After lunch we went to dinner, oh wait, I forgot. We did manage to spend several hours wandering the Lincoln Park area and the shore of Lake Michigan to burn off a few extra calories before dinner. We had to eat early so we could still make it to the Derby bout. Right? Anyway, we decided on a steak house that I had been to before, named Gene and Georgetti's and if you are a steak lover, I think this is the place for you. Nice big steaks fit for a real man. This of course excludes Bean, who I actually saw pale when they served him his order of prime rib which I swear had its own area code. The sides were ok, but the meat is unbelievable.

You would think that this would have been enough to eat for anyone, but then would be an idiot.

After the derby bout, Mr. Bennett, probably because he left about 2/3 of his prime rib to Brett, demanded a return trip to Portillo's so he could try one of them "eyetalian beef thangs". Well, how could we resist those big puppy dog eyes? We would just have to tough it out and have some Chicago dogs ourselves. Which we did, and then went to bed, and surprisingly did very well considering our stomachs must have either died or been on life support.

Oh yes, the Roller Derby bout. The reason we came to Chicago in the first place, right? Well, my little speed skating, elbow gouging, gestapo jammer of a PhD daughter, well over 4 feet, and weighing as much as 3 feathers, kicked the tar out of the other girls and scored more points than LeBron. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

By the way, one last post script about staying at a brand new hotel. I think I mentioned that they were still ironing out a few bugs. On our way to check out Sunday morning, we had the proud distinction of becoming the first guests to get trapped in the elevator. If you haven't experienced being shut in a walled cage about the size of a packing crate you haven't lived. And if you haven't had this experience with several claustrophobics, each panicking more by the second, well you just haven't seen it all. I would definitely recommend this as a new Cedar Point ride. First you start to feel your skin crawl, then the heat seems to have been turned to about 2000 degrees, then when you call on the emergency phone, and find out that the company responsible for this little death trap is speaking to you from Honolulu, things really start to get tense. After what seemed months, and after my mouth felt like the Gobi desert, Cathy had threatened to take her clothes off, Bean wondering if he'd eaten his last italian beef sandwich and 4 foot nothin' Sandy eerily at peace with the world, mercifully the elevator started moving. UP for some reason. Turns out that someone else on the top floor had pushed the button and somehow got it started again. We thought long and hard about taking the other elevator and were so grateful to be out, not to mention a topless Cathy, that I promised to name my next son after that lady that got us out. When we got to the lobby we found that we were not the only ones to be scared crapless by the ordeal. The hotel staff had gone into lock down mode when they heard the elevator alarm bell and they had called the fire department, police and the Marines. Not necessarily in that order.

I've left out some good stuff, but you get the idea don't you? Well I guess, "I'll see you on the dark side of the moon," or Chicago.


Love
Dad