My Kind of Town

Coming to you from the field office in Dyer, IN today. I'm up Laurie's way for a couple of family functions. Yesterday's was a bowling party for my soon-to-be nephew Clayton. Laurie and I bowled and, if I recall (and I'd better not very often), I beat her. Of course her attention was divided between bowling and herding a bunch of squealing 7 year olds. I just kind of stood back and watched it all happen in between rolls. Natrually, I can't ever bowl anymore without a million Big Lebowski quotes coming to mind. One of the youngsters set the scratch line sensor off and I had to fight the urge to yell "Over the line!". And I doubt any of the kids would've understood what "This is not Nam . . . " meant.

After the bowl-o-rama Laurie and I hopped a train to Chi-town to check out the Mag Mile and get some dinner. When we got to the platform at Homewood she saw a few people from the school she teaches at. I was introduced and we went further down the platform to wait. While standing there you could see the knot of Illiana people chatting and then stopping and looking over their shoulders at us. I thought I looked presentable enough, but it did make you wonder what the chatter was about. It's always at times like this I have to stifle the urge to give people something to talk about. Since Laurie still has about a month to go at Illiana I behaved.

We got off the train at Randolph St. and headed to Grand Lux for dinner. When we got there ans saw the jam packed lobby we figured we might have to make other plans. The frazzled hostess confirmed this for us with a tense "It'll be about a 60 to 95 minute wait." I could tell she was hanging on for dear life to the frozen smile on her face. Rather than be the guy that caused the dam to break I got us outta' there before she cracked.

While trying to think of someplace else, Laurie said she recalled Chicken saying one of his relatives or friends was a big shot at the Saloon Steakhouse in the Seneca hotel and that it was pretty good place to eat. So off we went. When we arrived the host told us they were sold out for the night in the dining room but that we could eat at the bar if we'd like. No problem. The bar was really nice with oak paneling and had a very old English pub thing going for it. Curious as to what role Chicken's alleged associate had in the place I called Chicken. That's the magic of cellular. Now you can indulge any question you may have at anytime anywhere. I left a message and told him we were at the Saloon Steakhouse and who his contact was so we could negotiate a deal. A very confused Chicken called me back about 5 minutes later explaining he knew no one there and that he'd never been. This was a really a blessing, in that it proved just how compatible Laurie and I are. I'm not the only one that imagines conversations or forgets details.

I ordered a 10 oz cut of prime rib with hash browns and Laurie had the filet. The french onion soup I had as an appetizer was outta' sight as were the steaks. The place is kind of pricey, but if you get a chance and have a decent appetite the Saloon Steakhouse is a great place to go. Just don't tell them Chicken sent you.

Afterwards we slogged down a very slushy Michigan Ave. to Starbucks for eggnog lattes. Very tasty stuff if you've never had one. Nothing really crazy about them, except they use eggnog instead of milk. It made a great dessert type coffee without being too sweet. The Phish-groupie looking barista screwed our order up though and forgot to make Laurie's. After we got that sorted out we mushed the rest of the way to the Randolph St. Metra station only to find out we had about an hour until the train left. Laurie suggested we go check out the window displays at Marshall Fields to kill time. This turned out to be a great idea, but not because of the window displays. I'll explain that later.

As we headed west on Randolph we passed several street musicians playing Christmas music. That mixed with the snow, the city's christmas lights and people you passed really put me in the mood. As we rounded the corner on State(?) we could hear "Let it Snow" being sung over a loud speaker. The voice was coming from a Chicago Fire Dept. tanker with it's lights on. A fire fighter in the right seat was just singing over the PA. And he was good too. Everyone on the sidewalks was cheering him on and waving. One lady was running alongside the tanker trying to get the guy's picture. All I could say was, "What a cool town."

Looking at the time I'll have to save my critique of the Marshall Field's windows for another post. Just do yourself a favor and get your butts up to Chicago before Christmas. It's hard to get burnt out on the holidays when you've seen a caroling fire truck.