Chicago part Two: Electric Boogaloo

In a face saving move, we decided to rename our first trip to Chicago. It's now called a 'Fact Finding Tour'. Everyone got that? Reconnaissance. We were there to scope the place out for further adventures. And so we did. Honestly, my only goal was Pizza. I achieved pizza. Mission accomplished.

-Pirates, we got pirates. Take that you ninja loving/buggery hating bitches. -

But we did want to see the Field Museum. I mean come on, pirates. Anyone who has spent more than fifteen minutes on the internet has had it drilled down into the depths of their soul that Pirates make every experience better. Real world or otherwise. That was all I really knew about the Field Museum, with the twin exceptions that 1) it held a exhibit on Pompeii in the past and 2) The frakking building looks a lot like the Museum of Science and Industry. Stupid Chicago, why did you have to use the same architect for both buildings? Couldn't you afford someone else you cheap bastards?

The adventure began as they often do, leaving town after work on a friday night. Once again we were headed to crash at the Fat Man's for an evening of movies and general geekiness. This time though, I planned to take a different route, something more direct. You know, fewer chances for us to miss a turn and end up spending the weekend hanging with the stone heads at Easter Island. Never underestimate either stupidity or incompetence as potent world shattering forces.

-The Masons, they're everywhere. Run for your lives, there really is a conspiracy! Ahhhhhhhh! -

Expectations and reality never seem to meet up. Instead of a quick and pleasant trip we ran into a traffic jam. Two lanes of highway came to a near complete stop. Half an hour or more we spent reliving a pattern. Lift foot from break, roll forward a car length, maybe two, apply break. Was it an accident? Construction? Hot as hell dance party with nude girls?

Nope. It was a bumpkin magnet. A drag race(or as I prefer to call it, dragshow). Every race loving red neck within a hundred miles seemed to be trying to take the same stupid exit to see the show. They packed themselves into those two lanes, all along the highway both north and south of the bridge. Yeah, it was that huge of a draw for the people in the area. And for those who have never seen a drag race, the festivity consists of a pair of cars starting from a dead stop and driving as quickly as possible, about five hundred feet and then stop. Over and over again. People pay to see it. Hell, they dragged their asses out into the middle of the countryside and braved miles long lines of cars to attend such a spectacle.

I don't understand my species.

- Stupid bald jokes aside, this was my favorite picture from the entire set of some 80+ we took that day. Dutch the magic comet, wrecking havoc in the dinosaur population. -

Maybe if there were swords involved. Chariots and bloodshed. But no, it's just a couple wigged out cars driving in a straight line. Repeatedly. Enchanting.

South Bend is a city I hate driving in, with it's wacky five-way intersections and multiple turnabouts. But now that I knew what to expect, it wasn't really that big of a deal, and in time we found ourselves watching Final Destination 3 with the Fat Man. Odd as that was since Evil and I had never seen the first two. But he does like introducing people to the series with the third movie.

FD3 is basically a hour and a half long excuse to make a film that involves the gruesome death of obnoxious teenagers in an overly elaborate and highly contrived manner. I'm all for teens dying in movies, and it was fun to watch the absolutely brutal fashion in which the writers concocted each and every death. A real gorefest. My only complaint is that they let the kids talk too much in the name of “Character development”. Just kill them and get it over with. Stop putting sentiments that don't belong into the children's mouth, that just makes the movie creepy in all the wrong ways.

With the movie over, we hit the sack. No leaky air mattress for me this time. Instead I took the pillows from the back of the couch. In the morning we sprang up and grabbed breakfast at a local place called the Skillet since the Original Pancake House was packed. The skillet was ok. People were friendly. Buffet was decent, I wouldn't go around craving the food, but I wouldn't veto a return visit either. French toast was awesome. I think they added a dash of nutmeg to their mixture to give it a unique flavor.

- Check it out, the Chefs look a lot like Steve Balmer and Bill Gates of Microsoft. They're diversifying into the greasy spoon market. It's amazing that breakfast didn't crash at least 3 times before we paid the check.

With breakfast behind us we stopped by Meijers to pick up the crappy adventure bling from one of the vending machines. What does it say about my taste that about the only jewelry that I own and wear comes from a vending machine when we go on one of these trips? Tacky? Whatever. A warning though, don't get into the habit. Freaking vending machines are addictive. You keep dropping your money in to see what little surprises that you get. For anyone with a steady paying job, a quarter is next to nothing, and I find it tempting to keep on going to see exactly what all secrets the little machine contains. As was, I spent a good deal more than I intended to, as I was looking for another ring to go with the rest. Took three tries and two cheap necklaces later I got something like what I was looking for. It resembled one of the rings from Captain Planet.

- Now to take these tickets back to the NPC that gave us the quest as proof of completion and get our well earned experience. 100 XP gained! -

With that, we met up with Dutch to start our adventure. The ride into Chicago was about like the first. Driving along in Dutch's car, listening to music as the Fat Man posed his questions of the day as he probed the inner workings of our minds. The first went about like this: (For the guys) You're in a movie theater on a date when a strange woman walks in and sits down next to you, through out the random jump scenes in the movie she shrieks/gasps and grabs your hand for comfort. She never says anything until the end when she gets up and hugs you and then leaves. What do you do?

My answer, Squeeze a breast and tell her that she was welcome. It would only be fair. More so with the awkwardness that she created between myself and my potential date.

Afterwards we moved on the the potential mix cds – this week it was Music to Rock to during the Apocalypse and Songs you should never bring up on a First Date. I am of the opinion that the Gary Jules rendition of Mad world fits well in both columns.

- He he he, Dinosaur Butt! Lolz0rz! -

Interesting conversation makes for a quick trip as we took the highway over the edge of South Chicago rather than just barging through again like last time. Methinks that Dutch and the Fat Man are a little shy of possibly meeting Leroy Brown. The highway dropped us right about where we wanted to be the first time we visited town. Lord be praised. And it was center to the original set of directions that the Fat Man printed off.

The day was drab and overcast and slightly cool, even through my adventuring pants. We bitched about the bad luck with the weather from the moment we stepped out of the entrance to the parking garage. Who wants to visit Chicago on a bland and overcast day? Fuck you nature! We had a two mile walk ahead of us, and the bitching lasted about the first fifteen minutes when our comments and thoughts turned miraculously to “Damn good thing it isn't sunny and 80 today. We lucked out. Thank you nature. Funny what kind of changes that a little exercise has on one's outlook.

- I bet it's one of those creepy ghost ships that appears out of the fog and attacks any poor soul that it comes upon. -

We walked along the lake shore, or rather along the concrete walkway that lined the harbor. The ground was covered with dozens of signs that alternately denoted that swimming and diving were both illegal in the area for whatever reason. But what if you fell in? We wondered. Or were pushed? Would you be required to either float or sink instead of swimming? Could you cannon ball? That isn't a dive. Ohh, check out the weird boat. This brought about the usual shift of my suggesting to Dutch that he do something stupid, which this time involved not only diving into the harbor, but also swimming out to the boat to see what sort of shenanigans that he could get up to. Dutch declined. I need to increase my charisma score and put a few more points into persuasion. That or find someone with severe brain damage.

- Skip ahead folks. This part is a lot like the LoTR movies. A lot of walking interspersed by homosexual midget orgies. -

We got in line and waited to give the City of Chicago our money in exchange for a day's worth of edutainment. Pirates fool, we were there for pirates. The lady at the counter happily took my money and queried whether or not we were part of a group, we were, but not in the manner which she was thinking. There were just four of us involved in the excitement. I told her that we had tried to visit in main but were waylaid by the evil Museum of Science and industry by manner of the fact that the buildings resembled one another.

And that we're retarded.

She just laughed and told me that that was a common error since both buildings had the same architect. No problem, we were here now and we were in. Time to take in the wonders held within the place of Muses.

The main hall of the Field museum is quite a sight A vast open space with a ceiling one hundred feet tall. The floor was speckled with exhibits that won't fit into any other space, from Sue the T-rex to some full sized totem poles. Very impressive and enough to touch off a sense of excitement in History and Science geeks of any age. Glee!

- Hey there Sue, I admit I'm a sucker for a girl with a pretty smile, but I don't like how you're grinning at me. -

Sue stands guard at the north entrance. The world's largest complete tyrannosaurus rex skeleton. Looking up at her, I hate to use a cliché, but I thought she would have been bigger. Maybe it was just the position they had her posed in, hunched over as if she were running to pounce on some unfortunate morsel. Or maybe the movies just gave me an exaggerated feeling of their true size. Whatever. I found myself looking up at the old girl and asking “Is this it?” True, I agree with Dutch's sentiment that I would definitely not want to have her chasing along behind me. Especially with all those years reading fantasy. Animated human skeletons

You might think that our first stop would be the pirates. Wrong sucker. It was the restrooms. A memorable experience that combined sticky floors with the smell of urine. I'd hate to be the custodian in charge of that place, with all the stupid kids coming in, and their inability to aim and shoot accurately. Ick. I doubt the poor bastard gets paid well enough to deal with that kind unintentional (hopefully) infliction of human misery.

I apologize in advance for the lack of photos of the inside of the pirate exhibit, I didn't take any. Not so much due to my immersion into the experience as the fact that photography was banned within, probably on pain of keelhauling. So you get Dinosaur pictures in their place.

- What is the plural of Triceratops? Triceratopseseses. Whatever. What I really want to know is why are the Jurrasic park scientists taking so long to pump these buggers out. think about it, the running of the Triceratopi in San Fransisco. -

The pirate exhibit follows the story of a single ship from its birth in England to its death off the coast of Cape Cod and then finally the enterprise of finding and recovering the loot from the wreck. They had hundreds of interesting artifacts raised from the ship's deathbead, ranging from cannons on down to spoons. The ship had been built as a slave transport, so the exhibit went into depth about the African slave trade and then a general overview of pirate culture of the period.

The creepiest object they had in their collection was a lone leg bone of one of the crew members. Said crew member happened to be a ten year old boy. Looking at the remains of a child pirate dead some two hundred years and entombed at sea is rather, not so much disturbing, but rather uncomfortable. I wonder if there will be stories about the bone being haunted by the child as there often are of various objects owned by the tragically dead. Maybe museum workers will tell visitors about how they see the ghost of a small boy walking around the exhibit at night, just out of the corner of their eye. Ohhh spooky.

- Quick everyone, Gather together like the tourists you are for the standard tourist picture! -

We wandered through the exhibit, reading some, but mostly just studying the objects. As the Fat Man pointed out, one can read about this any time, we were there to see physical artifacts in person. The Field museum has more than can been seen in a day unless you move fast and only browse. We probably only made it through two thirds of the exhibits, and most of those we didn't stop to read even a quarter of the information. This is good for the people of Chicago who have no end of time to visit(if not the money). It is a place of wonders, ancient and modern, man made and natural. Wish we had something as cool around here.

After the tour of the Pirate exhibit we hit the cafe that they 'provide.' Normally one would expect to pay insane prices for mediocre fare. We were all astounded that this wasn't the case. The prices were reasonable and the food was outstanding.

I am, as a side note, aware of cost and value. I have been so since reading Allegory of the Whistle by Ben Franklin. I usually ask myself if what I'm holding is worth what they are asking. It's a build in defense against collecting nick-knacks and starving on ramen noodles. Still, it leaves me looking cheap as hell. But I'm poor, so I have an excuse. I just hope that should I ever manage to strike it big, maybe by striking oil in my back yard, that I have the sense not to blow money like mad on worthless crap. Vending machine treasures aside.

Can't have enough of my precious. ****Warning Obsessive Compulsive behavior developing.****

- Terrorists fistbump in front of the magic mushroom. It doesn't get any geekier than this. -

Fed and happy we got back up and returned to our tour. First up was the section on the history of life as it has evolved on the planet earth. Evil pointed out that creationists should be forced to visit that exhibit if only to finally take away the proper definition of what a Scientific theory actually is so that they can stop using the 'only a theory mentality' to discard scientific data that 'contradicts' their beliefs.

Whatever. The collection was kick ass, with fossils that were hundreds of millions of years old lining showcases. This is where the Fat Man and I lost Evil and Dutch. The Fat Man and I agree on his stated sentiment about being there to see the artifacts. Dutch and Evil obsessively needed to read every single freaking sign posted within a five mile radius of the museum. Everything. It was insane, thought it gave me time to wander around the big room with all the Dinosaur skeletons on display (I doubt that they were actual fossils, but rather casts of the fossils). I got to see some old favorites. Rather one old favorite.

The triceratops has been, in my mind, the most awesome dinosaur ever to walk the world. I've been of this opinion since I was five and discovered dinosaurs. Raptors are cool, specially after the release of Jurassic Park, but the triceras will always be tops for me. Hah. Bad play on language. And you walked right into it. Pwned. I think it's their won't start none, but won't take none attitude that I always imagined them to have. As Teddy might say, they speak softly but have badassed horns. I'll likely forever have that image of them lodged in my mind. The prehistoric giant lizard equivalent of cows.

- Oh no! It's Airsquid! Someone get Godzilla! Ok kids, here's your motivation, that's a giant tentacled creature, and you're all Japanese school girls. alright, scene! -

We wandered through the rest of the upper floor, weaving in and out of exhibits, stopping to look from time to time. So much to see and try to absorb, which is hard when you see something else that is shinier and are compelled to move onwards to see what mysteries that the horizons hold.

We breezed through the morbid collection of dead animals to get to the Maneaters of the Tsvaro. A pair of stuffed lions whose story was featured in the movie “The Ghost and the Darkness”. The son of the founder of the Museum purchased them from the man who hunted them down and killed them sometime back in the 20s or 30s. They were a pair of big kitties and I can see why they would be frightening when on the prowl in the depth of the night. I think that in their own way, the two lions are even more frightening that Sue as they pad along silently in the dark. It would be ever so much more difficult to miss a six ton beast, should it ever decide to try and stalk its prey. Yeah, no dice there big girl.

Second in line for me was the Egypt expo. Hundreds upon hundreds of objects pertaining to ancient Egypt, dug up and then stolen for our enjoyment here in the states. I don't recall any Mummies, the Fat Man says there was at least one. My attention was on all the wonderful little works of art. The priceless trinkets that they have lying around like garage sale castoffs, only in heavy duty jewelry cases. That and dry humping the sarcophagi. Hey man, a man has his needs, and its been a while.

The day was winding to an end, at least for the museum. Bastards close early in the afternoon, which makes sense. I wouldn't want to be one of the workers there, stuck until nigh on forever as a bunch of gawkers wander around jaws agape as they try to comprehend the wonders that they are adrift between. Fuck that noise, better just to expel the visitors, clean up and then go home. So with that coming, we decided to take one last stroll around the gift shop and slip away before security was reduced to using clubs.

- This is a recreation of my favorite scene from Disney's Lion King. The part where the creepy hippy suduces the lioness, PETA style. -

We probably walked a good four miles that way. And that was just between the Museum and our parking garage. Who knows how many miles we put in while wandering the hall of knowledge. By the time we got back out onto the street the soccer game had let out. Going in we saw hundreds of people dressed in blue and white walking around town, they seemed to be congregating somewhere else so we ignored the, They were obviously fans, for Honduras I think, and that meant soccer. Against who? Who cares? It's grown men playing a game. We had better things to do, mostly meet up with my cousin Spank-daddy and find a place to grab dinner before we split back to Southie.

I wanted Chicago style stuffed again. One go six weeks before was hardly enough to satiate my appetite. But I also wanted to try something new. We failed in finding a suitable place within walking distance for a group of people who had already put in several miles and were thus tired and hungry. Spank-daddy suggested Miller's Pub which was close and he had heard good things about. Good enough for us, we took it.

- Yeah. It was tasteless, I admit. But then we are a bunch of big stupid kids. It is amazing that collectively none of us ever joined a frat whilst in school. -

- Goodbye last dollar. Goodbye! -

The place is a pub, a bar and restaurant combined, so I shan't go far into the decor. I will say that the place was packed, with who knows how many patrons enjoying a meal and conversation in the dim interior. People here were dressed for the night out, and the hosts wore what looked like Tuxedos. But despite the crowd we were seated in around 20 minutes. All that without being famous. Good service. I'm cheap, the menu was expensive, so I went with my usual standby. Hamburger. I do love the ground beef placed between a couple slices of bread and paired with some deep fried potato sticks. So simple but so consistently tasty and difficult to fuck up. Whatever, Miller's didn't disappoint here either. The food wasn't world shattering with a bomb of awesomeness, but it was damn good and worth a second look. I'd really like to try the pulled pork sandwich. Maybe next time when we hit the Art Institute.

- You know you want some of this. -

Back in the Fat Man's living room we exposed Dutch to Hudson Hawk for the first time. A crime of the capital order, that the man had never seen Hudson Hawk, as old as he is. Might as well not have seen Star Wars. Pokey, can you believe that kooky elephant?

It was a good weekend, capped off by my giving the race course the bird as we passed it on the way back north towards the homeland. No I'm not bitter. Fucking rednecks.

- The power of Ra compels you! -

Tards run amok in the Windy City, news at 11.

Our little group doesn't have a good record when it comes to the land navigation skill set. Really, if you gave us the task of "Walk down this straight hallway, the one with no doors or turns, to the far side." At least two of us would get lost, and the rest would arrive late. We decided to goto Chicago. Originally we were going to get a hotel and stay for the weekend. But the Fat Man was all like 'sod that, I live an hour away. Let's just day-trip this bitches.' this sounded better than laying out cash for a hotel in Chicago. We're cheap and they aren't.

-There we are kids, three of the four members of Brotherhood of the Anchor, we'll be spinning in your town real soon -

Back in 2005 I visited Chicago for the first time for a class trip. Two full classloads of art students from the back woods were packed into a pair of buses and driven around eight hours right smack into the middle of the largest city in the midwest. There are a lot of hickoid jokes that one might be tempted to make on our part, but doubtful that any of them would be overly accurate.

-Godzilla will make little work of your Windy City unless you pay me one billion Yen, and get me Morena Baccarin's phone number. -

True, it was my first time in the city of Chicago. But hardly the first visit to a major city. If one counts Detroit, Boston or Seattle. Yeah, I sound like a defensive bumpkin with delusions of sophistication.

We spent several days seeing art of various quality (the piece that sticks out best was a film that involved a hobo fucking a skull - I stuck around until he started painting on a wall with some nail polish and then I was out) in museums and galleries, being herded between one and the next by our professors/chaperones. In between events we were left along to explore at our leisure. The weather was amazing for October, high 70s, sunny and a pleasant breeze from beginning to end. When we got home we found that the summer had faded and that fall had finally taken its rightful place.

The high-points for me were two. Chicago Style Stuffed Pizza is the first. An inch of cheese mixed with various toppings in reverse Chicago order. We had it two nights in a row, and for other meals in between. I raved about it for months afterwards. And the second was the Blue Man Group. If you haven't seen one of the shows yet, go see them.

-This is exactly why Tim Curry was so damn creepifying in IT -

The Art Institute was killer, as were the legions of females, both the natives and our own contingent, who were still dressed in their summer clothes. I hate hot weather, but love all the girls in their summer outfits. Some things are just worth bearing if you get good enough compensation in return.

The entire class trip can be summed up as 'fucking awesome'.

So yeah, in Febtober of 2009 I asked the Fat Man if was down for a trip to Chicago one of these weekends. He was. Chicago after all, Fuck Yeah.

-Well fiddlesticks, what we have here boys and girls is a major case of historical language FAIL. Who wrote this? What it really should read is 'Fuckin-a G, your dope ride is the Shizznitt! Didja used to use it to cruise for pussy with your boys back in the hood?' Do some research damn it, you're working in a museum.-

I had one real plan at the beginning of our planning process. Locate Pizza. Acquire pizza. Eat pizza. Four years later, and I just wanted to get some freaking pizza. How messed up is that? Just hook it to my veins and I'll be happy! Sauce!

Really, Chicago is around 3 hours from here, and a mere Hour from the Fat Man. So why not kick in and have dinner. Head in the morning, and While we were in the area, we could easily kill time before dinner. Museums, Chicago has them. Lots of them in fact. We'll get back to this later.

The Field Museum was running a pirate exhibit. Goal number two had quickly emerged. See pirates and eat pizza. What combination could be more natural? In the mean time, we might throw in some dorktastic shopping experiences if we could fit them in. A used bookstore here, a gaming shop there. Chicago has a lot to offer if you're willing to look.

Turns out that we weren't that willing to look. Chicago also has expensive parking if your ass gets there late and you have no idea where you're going.

-Shiny things rule!-

The weekend started friday night. Evil and I made our way to Indiana with the intent of getting up early, breaking fast, and roaring into our funtastic weekend and making as much of the city visit as possible. That was the intent. Portents boded poorly for our trip from the getgo. We remembered the laptop/jukebox but forgot such important tools as our toothbrushes. Easily enough fixed. The dollar store has everything one needs to mount such an expedition. Including the hot pink star-shaped Hannah Montana bubble necklace which was bestowed onto the Fat Man. Mad props, the man wore the goofy ass thing through the entire weekend.

This was the high-point of the trip. Sad huh? The rest of it involved poor navigation, missing an exit and adding an extra thirty minutes to the trip. Fun fun fun! This does lead to a question. Along our route we found some kickass billboards advertising for an adult toy store. Vibrators and dildos and what-not. The whole array. Found them later on the internet. Stop judging me. Back to the store. Who are these billboards aimed at? Who is driving down the highway at 70, sees an attractive woman inviting them to a sex-shop and says to themselves 'I'm there?' Myself aside, who are these horny bastards? Kindly put your pants back on before raising your hand.

The reality involved our dumb asses staying up till two in the morning and playing the card game Bang. Wild times. After that I had all the joy of trying to catch some sleep in a warm room, wrapped in a warm sleeping bag, on an inflatable mattress with a slow leak. A combination that is mutually exclusive with a decent night's sleep.

After breaking fast we ended up succumbing to the temptation of material goods. Yeah baby those little vending machines in the lobby of the restaurant were our downfall. The Fat Man spotted one that was packed with rings priced at 25 cents a piece. He bought one. The rest of us were dragged along by peer pressure and a healthy sense of ridiculous. I wore mine for most of the trip. Bling bling! baby. I'll make Leroy Brown himself jealous of my pointless accessorization.

Northern Indiana is a depressing place, especially the closer one gets to the border with Illinois. Gary, what you can see of it from the expressway, is a real pit. Not the kind of town I'd enjoy getting lost in. The houses were rundown and decrepit. The same mess is mirrored along the so-called rust-belt. Saginaw, Flint and Detroit. Miserable places where the people seem to be trapped where they are. Like a pit of quicksand. This was a good time to stop watching the scenery pass by and close my eyes.

-Midair terrorist fist-bump for the win. Really, we fit right in with the 8 year olds who were running around the museum.-

Through the skyway and 16 bucks worth of tolls later, we were in Chicago on what would become Lakeshore. Success! We'd gotten so far without getting lost once. Mind you, it's basically a straight shot, once you get on the Toll Road, from Southie to Chicago. If you get lost here, well then we'll start a club for the dreadfully incompetence. A club with cake, supplied by people who aren't associated with the likes of us. It'll be fun. Except for our inability to conduct meetings or actually procure said cake.

Coming from the south, and I imagine any direction, you can see Chicago rise up out of the lake from miles and miles off. Majestic is way too corny. But the skyline is an impressive sight. A range of man-made spires. Or maybe a jagged cliff rising above the blue lake. I imagine that on clear summer days that the view is dazzling. For us it was cloudy.

We rolled up Lakeshore searching for two distinct goals. The first was Fields. The second was a place to park so that we could attend Fields. The Field museum is a giant concrete building designed in a neoclassical form that has been for so long popular with Western European cultures and their descendants. In America the style of architecture has been used to connect ourselves with the culture, learning and 'values' of the ancient Greeks(the democracy part, not the man on boy action). So, someone had the brilliant idea to mold our center of learning and culture in the style of the Greek and Roman buildings.

-Despite what you might think, this is not the Field Museum. In our defense, it is an actual Museum. And there is a field in front of it.-

And there it was. A giant concrete building in the classical style, with the Greek columns and the Roman domes sheathed in oxidized copper. Our collective reaction was a drawn out exclamation, probably in the form of a colorful metaphor. The building was enormous. We were going to need all day to explore it. Score one for the away team. Now to locate that parking garage that the Fat Man had found via the internet and we'd be golden.

We didn't come across the garage, as we circled the streets pulling further and further from the museum. So we backtracked and bingo, there it was, an underground garage attached right to the museum itself. What kin of luck is that? Not the good time kids.

I figured out we were somewhat off when I went to buy a ticket and it was ten dollars cheaper than expected. When I asked if it would get me into the pirate exhibit. The girls behind the desk stared at me and informed my pasty ass that this was the Museum of Science and Industry, I would find no such exhibit here. That sort of shenanigans was housed at the Field museum.

Fuck.

-Take that bitch. Always lock your wheel and frame to the bike post.-

So, we gathered our forces and exited stage three stories up and leftish. And then tried to find the Field Museum on foot via a tour of the perimeter. For those who aren't laughing along at home, the Field museum is around five or ten miles further north. Evil noticed a definite lack of Shed's Aquarium, which shares a space with the Field Museum. We had undershot our destination then payed for parking. With the Field nowhere in sight, we decided to surrender and check out the Museum of Science and Industry.

First thing one notices, the building is ginormous. And it's infested with a horde of monkeys. The bald kind that run around fully dressed. Make a lot of noise. And generally were rather obnoxious. We fit right in.

I was wearing my I Kill People On Weekends t-shirt that the Fat Man had specially made for members of our gaming organization back in school. It was intended to be rather catchy and on the edge of good taste as it referenced perceived social bias towards violent video games and those who play them. I've had the shirt for years, and love wearing it, especially on weekends. Well, this time I forgot what shirt I was wearing. It was black with white text, like 10 other t-shirts that I own. No, I'm not a goth.

But as such, with a legend like 'I Kill People On Weekends', on a Saturday, the shirt drew a lot more attention than was intended. The first instance was one of the workers at the museum near the ticket counter who asked about my policy. I was dumbfounded as I had forgotten I was wearing said shirt. In the end, the five bucks offered was not enough to kill his supervisor. Sorry to disappoint. Moving on. Cheap bastard.

First up, we hit the Uboat exhibit. Imagine a full sized German ww2 submarine residing in someone's basement, and that's about what you have here. Along the way from the main building to the hanger where the sub is housed, is a multimedia attraction about how the sub was captured intact by the allies. We skimmed right by it. Stopping from time to time when something caught our eye and then moving on without really waiting to absorb the entire presentation.

-That is impressive. Next, the full scale model of the USS Enterprise NCC-1701(I admit, I had to google that.)-

What we found was a living breathing WW2 era German Uboat. I mean we knew it was there. But really, most museums might be expected to contain part of such a machine, or a mock-up. This was the real deal. All one hundred and fifty feet of it. And it was quite cool. The walls were line with information about the workings of the sub and the daily lives of the crew. It's enough to dissuade me from taking up the submariner lifestyle. It looks a lot like being in prison, only underwater. And with more rape.

The museum offered the option to explore the sub proper. We didn't go inside, that'd of cost extra and we're cheap/poor. So on we went to kill time till dinner.

-Those wacky Germans sure do love their Skat.-

The rest of the museum is really just 'science' for children. It reminds me of the Imaginariam in Anchorage, only a thousand times larger. They had models by the hundreds. Not the good kind of models, the ones dressed in lingerie and bikinis, but rather the informative ones representing in scale real world objects that just wouldn't fit in such a small space.

The model that got the awesome vote for the day was that of the city of Chicago and how the railway system works in tying interstate commerce together. Yeah, pretty dry stuff. I had to refrain myself from Godzilling the model. Following through with the impulse would have involved some extensive fines and jail time, but damn it was tempting. If not for the destruction, just for a pic of myself 'attacking' scale-Chicago. Nothing can stop Godzilla! Might have been worth being expelled from the museum.

The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering around and posing for goofy pictures. If I have one disappointment, it is the Fat Man's unwillingness to Whinnie-the-Pooh the jet engine in the airliner exhibit. That would have made a fantastic picture, one to embody the entire trip. Damn that man and his pride. I suppose that I could have substituted myself, though my bony ass sticking out of the front of an engine as such would have lacked the humorous punch.

-You see, had he cooperated, in this space right now you'd be reading some classic Pooh-bear line like 'Ohh bother' or 'Mmmm honey'. But no, so all you get is some Weebl and Bob. Ready? "What the greasy poop going on here?"

Then there was the obligatory pass through the gift shop. Expensive shit. Some of it was passingly interesting, but not enough so for any of us to be willing to part with our cash for. Oragami Plane? Are they airworthy? I doubt it.

Finally we came to our true purpose. Pizza.

We grabbed the car, paid our fare and trekked north further into the heart of the great city. Yea and behold, there it stood, our original destination, the Field Museum. Bigger than life and far more intimidating, with banners proclaiming that the Pirate exhibit was located inside for those who dared to tread those hallowed halls.

I am a fat man at heart. Of all the pizza I've ever tried, I like the Chicago style stuffed the best. Fred's here in town falls into second place. I had spent four or so years building up the pizza we had had into mythic proportions. Enough to get me off my lazy ass and over to Chicago.

-You are correct. I am a schmuck. If we had been visiting Italy, I'd be the dufas who was 'holding up the Leaning Tower' in at least one of the photos we brought home. Can't help it, I just love cliches.-

We decided to hit up Giordano's, a restaurant that both the Fat Man and myself could swear by, and often did. This involved finding another parking lot, getting lost in said parking lot (we are a sad lot) and hiking down several blocks. About three blocks into our hike, it started to rain, and then it began to pour, then the level of rain ascended to whatever cosmic level is beyond mere cats and dogs.. I was greatly amused. Rain wasn't about to stop us. We just kept on going. After stopping to look up the address again, and then continuing on once more, we finally stormed the front of the restaurant and asked for a table. There was a 20 minute wait, the cute girls informed us.

Yeah. Twenty minutes, no problem. Well, if you ignored the fact that the the interior was roasting warm. Dutch held a plastic slice of pizza that marked our place in line while the rest of us were standing out front of the building watching the rain and talking with the other potential patrons. The hight point was a creepy bastard paced back and forth staring at us, he did that for around 20 minutes. That was the first and only “Wish I had a gun.” moments that I faced on this trip. I could tell that he was pondering the message of my t-shirt, and maybe considering testing the authenticity. Was it an idle boast? Or was it just a joke? The wheels were turning.

We met up with my cousin Spank-daddy about half an hour into our wait for the pizza, turned out that he had busted his face a week or so earlier with an alcohol fueled chance encounter with a similar storm and a local curb. Rather, half an hour into the wait for our table to sit down and order the pizza. What was taking so long? We found out when a stream of midgets(read children) passed through the door and was seated, filling the place to capacity. Bastard circus freaks had 'reservations'.

After our hour of penance for stupidity and failure to think ahead, we were finally seated. 45 minutes later we had our pizza in hand. It was as amazing as I recalled. Won't bother describing the experience here, go get some your own damn selves and stop your half-assed vicarious living through me.

Chicago's south side has a bad reputation for being rough and tumble and out and out dangerous. No doubt some of it is, especially to the obvious outsider (that'd be our dumb selves). Equally no doubt the south side has it's nice parts as well. At least according to the wikipedia article on the subject. Really South Chicago is like any other city. But it does have a reputation. We wandered straight into the northern edge.

-Origami airplanes? How well do they fly?-

The buildings and houses in places were fantastically beautiful, architecturally speaking.. Then a block or two later they were run down and depressed. It is like the city is rotting alive, with the dying and dead flesh right next to the healthy skin and muscle. Leperous.

Our first and most amusing taste of humanity came when we were stopped at a red light waiting for it to change. When suddenly someone pulled up behind and began to honk their horn and wave. We assumed it was an angry FIB(Fucking Illinois Bastard – which is apparently what folks in Wisconsin call people with Illinois plates) driver who didn't appreciate our stupid touristy ass blocking their road. That is the problem with being a tourist. You're forever in the purgatory of wandering the earth without knowing exactly where you are and how to get where you're going. Which tends to piss off the locals to no end.

This is what we thought we had on our tail. To the point that our Chauffeur Dutch tried to get the hell out of the way. Only to be tailed by a mysterious citizen who continued to honk and wave at us. It was like the urban legend about the traveler on the road being chased down by a car with ultra-high beams. No such luck here. It turned out that Dutch had a low tire, and concerned a citizen took it upon themselves to help a car load of confused tourists out. Most people, everywhere, would just look the other way and go on with their own lives.

Dutch decided to pull over at the nearest gas station and fill up the tire with one of the pumps. Usually they run $.75 for three minutes of time. More than enough. We pooled our cash, change was running short, and found a local BP. When we pulled up, there was a gentleman manning the air pump. He said it would be $.50 cents. As he was working his buddy came and hit us up for whatever he could, stuck his head in the car and wouldn't take no for an answer. With that kind of drive, if he had the education to match, he would have been a tiger in the business world.

Maybe he was, and panhandling on the weekends was just a hobby,

Here is the most depressing aspect of visiting Chicago. The homeless. They're difficult at times to pick out from the panhandlers who are just looking to make some quick cash off of the caring(or gullible). Whatever. A little spare change once in a while is nothing, and it might get into the hands of people who can use it. We're pack animals, social creatures, helping out a needy member of the pack is just the way it works.

But we ended up paying less than we had expected to for the air. So all in all it was a win situation. Later on it occurred to me to give them the final two slices of pizza that we took home with us. It had only been about a half an hour since we had left Giordano's, so the remaining pie was still warm. Afterthoughts are useless, unless you act on them then next time the situation repeats itself.

With our tire ready to go, and Lakeshore in sight, we were ready to head back to Southbend to rest and watch bad movies until the wee hours. And so we went.

Chicago day-trip number one, success mixed thoroughly with fail. Funny how a car full of college educated adults end up dumber than a sack of hammers at those basic life skills. The humiliation aside, it was a blast and we look forward to our next excursion into the west.

-Yep, waiting for the Never O'clock to come and end it all so I don't have to go face the humiliation of being a tard. -