R7 Travelogue #1: Chicago on lots of booze and little sleep

Please join us as Are Seven travels to parts of the world that he's intended to visit for a long time but hasn't quite gotten around to it until just now. Destination #1: Chicago, IL!

THURSDAY
Since the entire point of the trip was to see Hans before he moved from Chicago to Asheville, it only seemed right that I showed up on Hans's last night of work in Chicago. The downside of that was that I had to entertain myself for about 5 hours while he finished up for the night. So I wound my way around the downtown streets of Chicago, indulged in the cheesy ferris wheel on the Navy Pier (home to a McDonalds that branded itself the "McDonalds of the Future" for some odd reason), and endured the cold lake winds to walk down Lakeshore Drive as the sun set and the city lights came on. For some alone time, that was about as quality as it gets.

Hans and I headed back to his place when he was done with work, where my hours and miles of wind-blown walking found me exhausted, but still keen enough on experience to be up for a new wave dance night at some back alley place that Hans wanted to go to one last time. "Just an hour or so," we told each other, only to stumble out at around 3:30, having been egged on for hours by good tunes, a few of Hans's high-quality Chicago friends, and one spectacularly beautiful woman that I never got up the nerve to talk to (which goes without saying). We even stayed long after Hans got a text message letting us know that his roommate would have movers showing up at 8:00. But I didn't go to Chicago to sleep.

Thursday scorecard
Adult beverage count: ~8
Hours of sleepytime: ~3.5
Joke of the day: As I was wandering around downtown like I was in a maze, trying one street after another, I got a text message from Hans that said, "No no! You're going the wrong way!"

FRIDAY
If you think that a beeping clock is a harsh alarm, try the sound of fat rolls of packing tape being unrolled feet from your head. I couldn't see what they were taping up, but they could have wrapped up an elephant about 20 times over from the sound of it. (Aside to Hans: Did Brian have an elephant? Maybe a very fragile elephant? Because if he did, that would explain a lot)

Doug showed up somewhere around 11:00, and we headed to a neighborhood Latino place for some huevos con corizo and chilaquiles. Then we set off on the Ferris Beuller tour, to the Art Institute to get our picture taken in front of the Seurat and hum "Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want" to each other, before we gave up and, in a change of pace, had a few drinks...at the top of the Hancock building.

Our evening was spent hopping from bar to bar, meeting Christian at a train/El/subway/whatever stop at around 11:00. Around then, I crashed hard due to sleep deprivation, and the rest of the night was a little bit blurry, except for Hans spilling an amazing quantity of hot wax on my arm (and his) after raising the table's candle to try to read the menu at the last bar of the night. That'll wake you up in a right hurry.

We all woke up a little bit more when we came back to Hans's apartment to find a raging party in the apartment downstairs, complete with pounding techno/hard beats/global thud/whatever music being pumped through speakers approximately the size of Oldsmobiles. 1970's Oldsmobiles. The foundation of the building was shaking. But either the constant techno boom was soothing, or we were that tired, because we all managed to sleep through it.

Friday scorecard
Good stiff drinks: ~7
Hours of unconscious rest: ~4
Incredibly famous Hopper paintings viewed: 1

SATURDAY
Eager to continue on our trip of Chicago traditions/cliches, we braved the constant light rain to go to a Cubs game. Now, as an Astros fan, it took a little bit of self-convincing to really enjoy this, but I'm enough of a fan of history that I was deeply moved at the chance of being able to sing "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" at Wrigley Field. Luckily, the Cubs did me a favor by getting walloped 16-2, much to the delight of both me and Hans's beautiful Reds-fan friend who joined us.

Saturday night was the meal we were most looking forward to, heading back to Hans's old restaurant, where he could turn the tables and be served and treated by his old co-workers. Christian put it best: it was like being in Entourage, like going out with a celebrity. Everywhere we went, people were thrilled to see him and we were along from the ride. When our bar tab was presented to us, it was the normal black bill book with only a piece of paper inside that said, "Suck it."

The meal...was one of the greatest meals I've ever had. Hans's sommelier friend first hooked us up with a bottle of rose, and then brought over a bottle of French Pinot Noir. He and Hans went through the motions of swirling and smelling, which normally doesn't do much for me, but in this case...I'll leave at this: it was the best wine I've ever had in my life. Honestly, I've never tasted wine so perfect. We all toasted somewhat guiltily to the pleasure of living The Good Life.

We were treated to four desserts, one of which was decorated with chocolate script for Hans that said, "Asheville Sucks", and got some more dessert wine. And the bill? We were charged for two filet mignons and nothing more. It was a mind-blowing good night.

Friday scorecard
Alcohol: a lot
Sleep: a little more
Jokes: This was a good day. The first is when we were walking down a street and saw a store with a dark window that said, "METAL HAVEN: CHICAGO'S HEADBANGING HEADQUARTERS," and then Doug put on a monotone voice and Chicago accent and said, "My name's Hal, and I'm inviting you down to your Chicago headbanging headquarters. Look for us next to the Chicken Hut," to which Christian added, "This week only, take 20% off on Brazilian grindcore." It doesn't translate so well in print, but I was laughing so hard I could barely walk.

Christian had a couple of classics at dinner. The first was when a beautiful coworker of Hans's came by, and after she left, we asked him if he'd gone out with her.

Hans: I'd love to, but she only goes for assholes.
Christian (excited): Well, then you have an outside chance!

After that was when we were having a discussion prompted by our waiter putting the empty bottle of wine upside-down in the bucket, which Hans said waiters shouldn't do.

Reid: Well, what should the customers do to show they're done with the wine?
Hans: The customer can do whatever they want to do.
Christian: Just put the bottle in your pants.

SUNDAY
We were tired on Sunday. It was raining in a nasty way on Sunday. There would be no tourist extravaganzas on Sunday. So we just did what the four of us do best: ate, shot lots of shit, went record-shopping, entertained each other with our own self-appreciated brand of purported "humor" and just cleared up what was never in doubt: that this is about as strong as friendship gets. An amazing weekend in an amazing city with the best people.

Thank you for joining us for this first edition of R7 Travelogues! Tune in next time when...well, that's the thrill of R7 travel: there's no telling when it's actually going to happen.

In the jukebox is the song of the weekend, a song that will never remind me of anything else but those days: Jose Gonzalez's "Heartbeat"