We entered Chicago late evening to avoid heavy traffic and couldn’t help noticing, yet again, that everything about the US was XXL, not only 30% of the population. The area surrounding the city is jammed with numberless roads, exits and bridges leading towards various destinations and making it virtually impossible to realize where exactly one is headed. Had it not been for our Chaquida, we would have wasted hours figuring out which ways to take.
In Chicago, we were supposed to meet our next host. Not only did Brian turn out to be a great conversation-maker but he also did an awesome job making sure that the short stay would be an unforgettable one even though we successfully thwarted part of his efforts by spending far too much time purchasing a motorcycle u-lock and getting a flat tire. The latter was not much of our fault, though. Apparently, those who were preparing the architectural designs of Chicago road system, including curbs, did not take into account how many baffled tourists would be driving through the city. However, residents don’t appear to be any better. I don’t think they ever teach parking skills during driving courses here. Instructors probably assume that their students will never manage to find a spot to park in the city, anyway; if they do, it will be a privately-owned parking lot with exorbitant prices but relatively wide spaces. The ‘yield’ sign is frequently disregarded, as well. When you travel along the most attended streets downtown, it looks as though you had been miraculously carried into a third-world war country where traffic rules are non-existent and everyone feels free to do whatever they wish. If anybody complains about congestion, there’s an extremely easy way to resolve the problem. There are so many crappy drivers in this city that taking away their licenses for life would be both justifiable and beneficial for Chicago’s traffic.
I wouldn’t have complained about all the minor problems we needed to cope with (incl. a flat tire and a parking ticket) if I had known what a marvelous ending to that 2-day Chicago adventure was in store for us. Brian decided we should meet his friend, Debbie, who has a cool sense of style, a thing for Apple products and a generous hand when it comes to pouring vodka. We met Debbie in her apartment at the 58th floor of a condo in downtown Chicago. The view was absolutely overwhelming. Imagine waking up and seeing innumerable roofs of nearly all the surrounding skyscrapers. We also got a chance to visit the 60th floor which features a party room for the residents. That’s one of the best party-places known to man but it’s not advisable to approach the balcony barriers too close once you’ve consumed Debbie’s drinks. You might feel a sudden urge to leap across the fence in order to land on a roof of another building. In all likelihood, that would be your last jump on this planet.
Debbie and Brian wanted to take us to a typically American bar/restaurant for dinner although they admitted it was hard to pinpoint what the ‘American food’ phrase actually pertained to. We hit Miller’s Pub, which indeed looked very much US-style in spite of boasting some British and Irish elements, as well. Eventually, instead of going along with burgers or Canadian baby-back ribs, we opted for some Jamaican and Italian staff. And this is the best moment to mention the quality of customer service. I was blown away to see the involvement of the waitress who was serving us that night. She was cheerful, entertaining and didn’t have that ‘I hate my job’ expression you frequently encounter on the faces of people working in the catering industry. It seemed as if she had loved every aspect of her work even though she probably didn’t. Once the dinner was over, we headed back to Debbie’s apartment to enjoy the panorama of Chicago by night, for a change. It made an even greater impression that it did in daylight. Having seen that striking view, I felt ready to hit the road again.
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