3/1 My Kind of Town

In spite of the coffee, I fell asleep as soon as I hit the soft, inviting mattress. Because of the coffee, I woke up about 4 and couldn't go back to sleep. I puttered around and was back in the lounge for breakfast when it opened at 7. There was so much food! I made a bagel with lox, capers and purple onions and had some great fruit, more coffee, etc. (When I went back to get Lisa some coffee a couple of hours later, no one else had touched the lox. Fools!) The morning's rain wiped out the last remaining snow on the beach. I watched someone practice yoga at the water's edge while the sun must have risen behind the clouds. I saw something in the water just off the beach. At home I might have thought, "Seal!" or "Dog!" In Chicago I thought, "Body." I think it was a rock.

Lots of people were mingling in the park while their dogs cavorted unrestrained. It reminded me of plays and radio stories about dog parks in big cities. Looked like a good time.

From our window.

The Drake is at the corner of the only two streets I'd heard much about in Chicago, Michigan Avenue and Lakeshore Drive. I walked up Michigan Avenue on Miracle Mile, a shopper's paradise, fortunately the shops were still closed. I fought the commuter traffic, insane whether on foot, bike, cab, car or bus, through downtown. It all seemed so familiar. I felt like Mary Tyler Moore or Marlo Thomas in drag. (I know their shows were set in Minneapolis and New York. Eastern cities are all the same to me.)

Mary? Marlo? Bob?

If I had spun around in the middle of the street and thrown my hat in the air, no one would have noticed. Not even when they ran over me repeatedly. I think I saw the route Bob Newhart walked to his office. Everytime I saw the el train, I thought of ER. I crossed the Chicago River. It seemed more like another street than a river, except that the taxis stayed off of it.

Chicago River Rapids.

I followed Riverfront park to Lake Michigan, then walked the beach along Lakeshore Drive back to the Drake. Frank Sinatra was singing "My Kind of Town" in my head the whole walk. In fact, it's still echoing through my head. I'd kill for a radio.

Life's a beach.

I called Lisa on the walkie talkie from the dog park to get her out of bed and to be able to identify our room.

She thinks its 1920.

We got everything ready to check out and walked over to see the one thing the Amtrak snack car guy insisted we see - the view from Big John, the John Hancock building.

Big John

It was only 1000 feet high. Puny compared to the CN Tower in Toronto, but the Chicago skyline is awesome. I'm positive that the world's most talented and competitive architects design Chicago's buildings. They're beautiful, remarkable, diverse and bizarre.

We toasted Chicago with a Raspberry Champagne Spritzer and my last coffee and killed a little time before checking out of the Drake.

Lisa prepares for her train ride with a drink...
...and a nap.

We had another exciting cab ride back to Union Station and tipped him well for so much entertainment and no injuries. We easily followed the signs to Amtrak's Metropolitan Lounge, and so did everybody else. It was packed, but we could leave our bags and roam. A Chinese circus barker convinced us to try his restaurant's chicken and eggrolls. By the time we'd finished we were both falling asleep and dreaming of two days being rocked in our berths on the train. I don't think we're going to be meeting people and making friends on this leg of our journey, unless they're in our dreams.