Sep. 5th, 2013

muckefuck: (zhongkui)
Today I took the morning off to breakfast with [livejournal.com profile] sandor_baci, in town for a few days on holisness. I would've preferred doing lunch. Hell, if I'd had my druthers, it would've been the whole day, but just my luck to have an unmissable committee meeting this afternoon. And if I was going to come in for that, I might just as well come in for a one o'clock training session with my section.

I exploited the occasion to check out a highly-rated Gold Coast bistro, Café des Architectes in the Sofitel on Chestnut. It didn't disappoint. My crèpes au jambon were tender, generously filled with high-quality ham, and sauced with a flawless béchamel. I didn't expect them to be accompanied by roast baby potatoes with gruyère, but they were, and the complimentary croissant was most satisfactory, too. (Although why they don't have butter set out on the tables is a mystery to me.) The outdoor seating is lovely, but a bit noisy of a midmorning. (Should've remembered all the purveyors would be making their deliveries.)

[livejournal.com profile] sandor_baci didn't disappoint either. It was only after I was underway to meet him that I wondered how we'd find each other. I couldn't remember if he'd ever seen a photo of me, but I knew I'd never seen one of him. As it was, I needn't've worried; I scoped him immediately from my vantage point in the parklet across the road (now outrageously dominated by an Argo Tea). And it turns out that, despite the nature of the glamour shot from [livejournal.com profile] bitterlawngnome's session with me two years back that got him to pay attention to me in the first place, he can identify me from the front as well.

I'm not sure what exactly I expected, but it wasn't someone so (a) tall; (b) ginger, or (c) soft-spoken. As I told him, it was reminiscent of meeting [livejournal.com profile] paulintoronto, who can sound a bit stern in his posts (that's the schoolteacher coming out), but is anything but in real life. Sándor managed to launch right into a technical account of the fascinating work he does without seeming either narcissistic or condescending, and that's no mean feat.

The meal was over in a flash, leaving me with copious time to kill before I needed to catch my shuttle, so I walked him over to the Hancock and waited at the post office while he mailed his packages. Chicago was going all out to impress with fine weather, so we strolled around the MCA and Northwestern's downtown campus. He filled me in on some of his checkered past, which brought to mind Prof. Trefusis' line from Fry's The Liar: "Young people sometimes give me the impression that I have never lived at all" (albeit with "older" substituted for "young").

He then returned the favour from earlier, sitting on a bench with me while I waited on my ride back north before sauntering off to take in the Art Institute. After that, the bleariness of a poor night's sleep caught up with me and the rest of the day faded to a vaguely pleasant blur. Sometimes thing just work out.

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