…. And the City, PART 1

Another trip to Chicago was had. As per usual, it was fast, hurried, harried and overly booked, but still fun.

One thing me and The Man have NOT gotten down to a science is the fact that in order to take pictures, SOMEON E has to remember to bring the damn camera. And in that same realm, if we don’t remember to bring the digital camera (or can’t find it), we should bring one of the many throw-away cameras we have filling our kitchen junk drawer.

That NOT being the case, I will give you a guided tour via the Internet…(or as they say I the town that I grew up in, “the Internets”)

Let me start by saying we received a nice warm welcome in arriving to Midway Airport. I mean warm in that there were not razor sharp winds or heaps of snow. It was quite balmy, especially at 1:30 AM.

After picking up our rental car, I decided to take the Man to the City to the (drum roll, please), Weiner’s Circle. That’s right kids. Hot dogs are among the bevy of good food that the City holds, and this place is one of the greats.

Before we arrived, we drove down Lake Shore drive

to

Wrigley Field (Home of the Chicago Cubs)

and then drove south down Clark Street to check out the sites – bars, restaurants and MORE bars…and many, many drunk folk. I am not talking 1 or 2, but herds of people leaving from one place to another, leaning on one another. Stumbling. And one man was even an acrobat (a wobbly one) and did cartwheels through the intersection only to fall flat before ending his gymnastic-like adventure.

The Weiner’s Circle was VERY interesting. The people working at the counter were, um, let’s say, the RIGHT kind of people to deal with the drunkards that come in their doors after 2 in the morning. For one, we were greeted with, “Mother F---cker, what do you want??” Once they realized we were completely sober, their demeanor changed (even their tip jar said, “Tip me here, Mother F----er!.”) But as we waited, the place became mobbed with the group of college kids that were holding one member of their team up and trying to feed him fries. Then a group of guys that we’d seen further down the street leaving a reggae club came in to chime back with their own “m’fing” language.

The hots dogs and fries? M-effing amazing (even though, all of you kiddies who know me know I DON'T really eat dogs, just a taste :)



Too bad I couldn’t show you REAL pictures, but you can get the jist...next stop?

Navy Pier...