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Oct. 21st, 2019 10:02 am
Spontanität
My cousin's wedding in Kansas City was so much fun that it took me a week to recover. I pulled a calf on the dance floor and it was only Saturday that I noticed it wasn't really bothering me any more. And that was lucky, because I did more walking this past weekend than in probably the entire week before.
I'd intended to do Open House Chicago both days but I had trouble finding someone to partner with. Big Red made noises but never made it out. Disappointing, but better than Che, who initially agreed and then bailed.
(It's actually even worse than that. I asked if he had any place in particular he wanted to go and he said, "Surprise me". Then the day of, he asked about the Board of Trade and I was like, if that's what we wanted to do, we needed to set out earlier. Then he stopped responding to my texts so fuck that guy.)
What this meant was that, at the second site, I struck up a conversation with a nice gay German couple and quickly decided that people were more interesting than buildings. They wanted a drink up high so we went to the Signature Room and from there on a stroll through the Gold Coast to the History Museum.
From there I was going to take them to the gaybourhood, but at the bus stop they spotted a lighted roofdeck and asked me about it. I had no idea so we walked over and checked it out. It was a cheesy Chad 'n Trixie bar with surprisingly good food and service. I was bummed until I realised what a truly authentically inauthentic Midwestern American experience it was. They even had beer pong and cornhole!
We had a nightcap at Sidetrack where I dispensed with my obligatory beer with an old friend of Monshu who was in town for the weekend. He stayed long enough to embarrass me in front of them and then we scattered in three directions: them to their AirBnB on the South Side, him to his friend's in East Lakeview, and me to a house party in the RP.
Despite being out past 1 a.m., I managed to get up early enough the next day to fit in a visit to the industrial makerspace three blocks east of me, since I figured it was something Che wouldn't be interested in. After he blew me off, I went ahead with my previous plan (cutting out only the Loyola locations I'd added for his benefit), visiting a half-restored house, a fully-restored mansion, and a recently-renovated synagogue before calling it a day.
Well, kind of. What this meant was breaking for a late lunch before heading home. From there, I was going to meet a coworker at his storage unit to borrow a wig but a friend from the suburbs asked to get together so we went to Doña Chio's. He had his first huarache and I had pay de limón. Then I dragged him along to help choose the wig before taking him back to my place for coffee and fun times. "I wasn't expecting that," he told me. Neither was I, kiddo, neither was I.
I'd intended to do Open House Chicago both days but I had trouble finding someone to partner with. Big Red made noises but never made it out. Disappointing, but better than Che, who initially agreed and then bailed.
(It's actually even worse than that. I asked if he had any place in particular he wanted to go and he said, "Surprise me". Then the day of, he asked about the Board of Trade and I was like, if that's what we wanted to do, we needed to set out earlier. Then he stopped responding to my texts so fuck that guy.)
What this meant was that, at the second site, I struck up a conversation with a nice gay German couple and quickly decided that people were more interesting than buildings. They wanted a drink up high so we went to the Signature Room and from there on a stroll through the Gold Coast to the History Museum.
From there I was going to take them to the gaybourhood, but at the bus stop they spotted a lighted roofdeck and asked me about it. I had no idea so we walked over and checked it out. It was a cheesy Chad 'n Trixie bar with surprisingly good food and service. I was bummed until I realised what a truly authentically inauthentic Midwestern American experience it was. They even had beer pong and cornhole!
We had a nightcap at Sidetrack where I dispensed with my obligatory beer with an old friend of Monshu who was in town for the weekend. He stayed long enough to embarrass me in front of them and then we scattered in three directions: them to their AirBnB on the South Side, him to his friend's in East Lakeview, and me to a house party in the RP.
Despite being out past 1 a.m., I managed to get up early enough the next day to fit in a visit to the industrial makerspace three blocks east of me, since I figured it was something Che wouldn't be interested in. After he blew me off, I went ahead with my previous plan (cutting out only the Loyola locations I'd added for his benefit), visiting a half-restored house, a fully-restored mansion, and a recently-renovated synagogue before calling it a day.
Well, kind of. What this meant was breaking for a late lunch before heading home. From there, I was going to meet a coworker at his storage unit to borrow a wig but a friend from the suburbs asked to get together so we went to Doña Chio's. He had his first huarache and I had pay de limón. Then I dragged him along to help choose the wig before taking him back to my place for coffee and fun times. "I wasn't expecting that," he told me. Neither was I, kiddo, neither was I.