Chicago and All That Jazz... #16

From May, 2015

During an extremely hungover day of driving towards Chicago, we rested by Lake Michigan and then had a truly classic American experience in the state of Illinois. Ok, although it wasn't the greatest of movies to watch at an old-style drive-in, Pitch Perfect 2 certainly did the job. We hooked the speakers into the rolled-down window of the car and joined hundreds to enjoy Anna Kendrick and co sing their hearts out. The delightful animated intermission advertising refreshments was worth the watch alone. 

Later that night, another police encounter followed and after just ten minutes of kip (sleep, for the American readers), our car window was knocked on. We all gulped in sync as our jaws and balls dropped instantly. We were told that we weren't allowed to park there and they asked to see our ID. Naturally, Rodney s**t his pants. We had a short chat and soon we had made their night by having Diana Ross playing on the radio and – of course – for having English accents.

The evening scenic drive to the great Windy City was exceptional – despite the almost impossible-to-navigate expressway leading in. We listened and smiled to the Michigan-born Sufjan Stevens’ sing ‘all things go, all things go/drove to Chicago’ from the brilliant song named after the city as we eventually cruised in.

We soon checked in at the overpriced – but still considerably improved compared to Denver – Getaway Hostel and fell in love with the beautiful city straight away. Although, we tried Chicago's famous pizzas and were no more than satisfied; we couldn't see what all the fuss was about on this occasion. In contrast, arguably the best breakfast I have eaten to date was consumed at Elly’s Diner. The huge vegetable and cheese omelette, hash browns, three pancakes with syrup and sugar and bottomless coffee was a typical ridiculously large American portion and filled me for the day. Later, we asked someone for directions and they recommended a bus or a cab as it was a 15-minute walk away. We’re beginning to understand the obesity problem in the country a little better…

The hostel had a free BBQ which Rodney expressed his excitement for. I, on the other hand, knew exactly what that meant: meat, meat and – yeah, you guessed it – one unhappy Chaddabox. Oh, how I was wrong! Bread rolls, vegetables, corn on the cob, a variety of potatoes and much more; I was in heaven. As I reached over to the plate of delectable food, drooling, the owner of the plate informed me that was his and the other chef’s and he pointed to the potato chips (crisps) and stale bread. I watched Rodney eat burger after burger and I put the potato chips in a bread roll. Salted would be an understatement.

In the pouring rain, I trudged to visit the iconic monument entitled Abraham Lincoln: The Man in Lincoln Park in the home city of the country’s 16th president. The Millennium Park is home to the famous Cloud Gate (aka ‘The Bean’) by the Indian-born British artist Anish Kapoor. Having seen his previous work at London’s Royal Academy of Arts in 2009, it was genuinely interesting to see this similar permanent installation of a large mirrored sculpture in such a prestigious location. The extravagant Buckingham Fountain was brilliant, but only second to Seattle’s International Fountain which splashes at an impressive distance of 67m (220 ft) and a height of 37m (120 ft) to the beat of various musical classics. The unique Crown Fountain – which displays two 15m (50 ft) glass block towers either side of a shallow pool – projects changing video facial images of Chicago citizens. Two extraordinarily talented gospel choirs – very reminiscent of Sister Act it has to be said – sang with heart and passion for a celebratory festival of African American culture to become my personal Chicago highlight.

We sipped our Bud’s and watched the Chicago Blackhawks beat California’s Anaheim Ducks 5-3 in the ice hockey Stanley Cup semi-final which had the entire bar enraptured. Following every home goal, one member would scream with ecstasy and high-five us and anyone in sight. Fired up, we went to a classy bar a few blocks (roads) away and spoke to two lovely ladies. After a fairly successful hour of exchanges and shots we took their offer up of another bar and left – despite conversation and interest having already fizzled out from both parties. We waited for an Uber taxi which never came and eventually hailed down a cab to travel less than a ten minute walk away; the obesity puzzle pieces are now taking an oversized shape. Rodney ordered the two of us a beer as the girls looked on in expectation and – in shock – regrettably paid for their own drinks. They paid for two taxi’s (for a bar we could see from our location), paid for two drinks (which they drank none of) and suggested the place to go (which was very poor) and then left without saying a word, devastated. We struggled to understand their thought processes, laughed and continued to sip our Bud’s..

On our final night we met a Canadian girl who shared a significant experience she had whilst travelling. She allowed the apparently clueless bus driver to drive the 43 mile (69 km) ‘world’s most dangerous road’ in Bolivia via the risky mountainous route of Yungas Road (infamously known as Death Road). Having been told adamantly by many not to do the journey which is due to come up on our travels, Rodney was already shaking in his boots. The Canadian girl arrived on the other side scratch-free. The following bus fell off the cliff.