Posing for a picture

There are worse things, than staring at the water, as you're posing for a picture

There are worse things

The flight to Chicago is fairly uneventful. I exchange pleasantries with the man sat next to me. He asks about my accent, asking if I am from Australia. I get mildly offended. After I tell him I am English we duly chat about the weather. The forecast is for a weekend of rain and thunderstorms, he tells me.  I arrive in Chicago at the same time as my host, “Bob” (his coffee name not his real name) is leaving for a night in Toronto.  I head downtown to collect the keys from Bob’s colleague and then head up to his apartment & get settled in.  He has sent me a rather detailed email explaining that when I get to his I will be greeted by a cat, Molly, and a lodger, Toby. He also tells me that Toby, who is extremely easy on the eye, is straight. I’m not sure what he was expecting me to do to the lodger that he felt it necessary to inform me he didn’t bat for our team.

I decide to have a quiet evening in so that I am fresh for the morning and can hit Chicago at a pace. Bob has lined up a chaperone/tour guide, Robert, for the next day so I text him and we make plans to meet in the morning for breakfast. I spend the evening relaxing listening to the radio and looking through the photos I’ve taken so far.  Toby comes in, shirtless, to ask if his music is too loud. It isn’t. He stays in the doorway to tell me that if it gets too loud then I should let him know. I thank him. Shortly after he comes in wearing just a towel, with a pair of jeans in his hand, which he explains belong to Bob. They were hanging over the shower rail & he didn’t want to get them wet when he had a shower. I text Bob to double-check the lodger is really straight, having now seen him in a state of undress twice within the space of a few minutes.

Than staring at the water

I wake the next morning, opening my eyes to find Molly asleep on my pillow right next to me, which makes me jump, which makes her jump.  After 2 weeks of travelling and sleeping in 5 different places I’m still learning I need to remember where I am when I wake up. I shower and get ready, and get a message from Robert asking me if I am dressing “American” or more “Euro”. I reply that I have a t-shirt and shorts on. I am curious as to what “Euro” would be – maybe a stripy t-shirt, a beret and a string of onions? He also suggests I wear comfortable shoes, a trait that comes naturally to lesbians. I follow their lead and put on my Birkenstocks.

We head to a lovely little café for breakfast, walking via Wrigley Field, home of the Chicago somethings baseball team. They are playing the New York somebodies that day and he asks if I fancy watching the game. I’m not a big sports person so I pass, opting for a schedule of more cultural tourism. I was always one of the last to be picked for sports teams at school and don’t really enjoy anything where there might be balls flying towards my face…

Crystal Palace

Over breakfast we chat about what I want to do and see while I am in Chicago and I go through the list that Craig gave me. On my list is a trip up the Hancock building, one of the taller buildings in the city which has an observation deck at the top.  Robert (and his colleagues) found it amusing that I called it “The Top of the Cock”.  I had been led to believe that this was what everyone referred to it as. We chat about where we are both from & now live, work and my travel plans. After breakfast we get the metro downtown and go to get tickets for the architectural river cruise.  They have all sold out for the day. I book myself a lunchtime cruise for the following day as half the cruises for tomorrow are also sold out.  We then head to the Art Institute of Chicago, where there are a couple of specific pieces that I really want to see, as well as just have a look round.  Robert takes me to the Thorne Miniatures Room first, a hidden gem tucked away on the lower ground floor. Inside are dozens of recreations of rooms done in various styles from England, France and the US. The scale is one inch to one foot and the detail in them is incredible.  After that we head upstairs to see some of the paintings. There is a little confusion caused by my attempted map reading and my failure to realise that what I call the ground floor is called the first floor over here, making what I call the first floor the second floor. Such fun!

As you're posing for a picture

We find the galleries that I want to explore and I’m about to point out a picture that reminds me of Crystal Palace. I’d tried explaining what the Crystal Palace was as this is the area I live in back in London.  The painting turns out to be a Pisarro and is of Crystal Palace!  During the course of our time in the Institute we see the Suerat painting A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte, the inspiration behind Sondheim’s Sunday in the Park with George, the morning version of the Houses of Parliament picture that mirrors the evening one I saw in DC, American Gothic by Grant Wood (the Desperate Housewives picture) & the Marc Chagall America Windows. We head out of the Institute over the bridge to Millennium Park where we stop to enjoy a beer. I try the local brew, opting for 312.  I’m asked if I want a small or large. I order large, thinking it will be pint. It is 32oz, which is over a pint and a half. It’s a nice refreshing brew on a warm day.  We head to see the bean, a giant polished metal sculpture which is crowded with tourists doing wacky things & taking photos of their reflections. From there we head to the lakeside and walk up along the shore of the lake (stopping for a beer) before heading through Lincoln Park (stopping for a beer) before finally returning to Bob’s. I thank Robert for his chaperoning and company, another new friend made. It has been great to spend the day with a local who has been able to point out lots of things I would otherwise have missed.

Dean at the bean

I bump into Bob, and his man, leaving for dinner as I am getting back. While they go grab a bite to eat I shower & change, grabbing a snack before they return to take me out for a few drinks.  We head to a rather interesting place called Big Joe’s which apparently is known for its Friday night entertainment of turtle racing.  When you buy a drink from the bar you are given a numbered ticket.  Once the turtle races begin the host draws six numbers out & the lucky people are effectively the “jockeys” for the turtle race. Each one picks a numbered ball & is allocated a turtle, which are all waiting in the centre of a large board with a circle painted on it.  The first turtle to leave the circle once the race starts is the winner.  There is a t-shirt for the winner and a free drink for the person who comes in last.  As we quickly discover after two heats, the free drink invariably goes to the person who drew Yolanda. When her name is called out the host, and the turtle racing regulars all shout in unison that she is “the slowest f***ing turtle in the world”.  We don’t get drawn as jockeys for the first two races so we head off, missing the action of the last four heats & the final race, which the winners of the heats compete in for a place in a prize draw for a holiday to Vegas. It certainly made for an interesting experience! We head to a bar called Big Chicks, which despite the name, is not a bar for the gay ladies. A nightcap there and then back home to bed rounds off my first day in Chicago. 

“There are worse things, than staring at the water, as you're posing for a picture” 

Lyrics from Sunday in the Park with George from the musical Sunday in the Park with George