Chicago daytrip
 

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I left my home away from home at 0530 and got to the
airport roundabout 0600. The foot traffic paths have been
changed since I last took off from here, and the way to
the UA/US gates has been blocked off, with everyone going
to the right out of security (which had been fairly fast,
efficient, and not overbearing). I didn't know this and
muzzily followed my memory's footsteps and found myself
in a corridor that dead-ended at the Sheraton. Retraced my
steps, and there was just a short time to waste at the US
Air club, which is cozy and reminds me of the smallest CLT
club. Airport-wide wi-fi.

The flight was fine, the FA in the jumpseat opposite
being fairly cute (this was an award ticket). We came in
a tad early.

Someone leapt out at me from behind the Ciao coffee shop -
it was my friend Annie, who took me in hand and ushered me
to the Hilton via the short surface route (as opposed to
the arduous underground tunnel route). The hotel had only
one upgraded room ready, and she got it (ladies first, you
know), so I left my bag there for the day, promising to
check into my own room in the evening.

We headed underground to the Blue Line, only to discover
that day passes are not issued at the airport station (this
a major failure in customer accessibility and good sense).
Instead we got ordinary cards and resigned ourselves to
spend extra this day, something that neither of us is eager
to do in these times of heightened economic distress.

Our first stop was the half-price show ticket booth, which
(as it turns out) doubles as an information center, but (as
it also turns out) wasn't open: a guard pointed us at the
Cultural Center directly across the street, which turns out
to have been an excellent recommendation. This was the first
Chicago Public Library building and has been taken over as
an information and r&r facility with function rooms and
historic/art/architecture exhibitions upstairs.

At the information area in front we chatted with various
concierges and got recommendations regarding the best
hamburgers, parks, and sights. Everyone agreed that the
Architectural Foundation boat tour was the best of its type
and not to be missed (there was no self-interest issue, as
people were flogging different things - foodie tours, Segway
tours, and so on), so we planned on that. At some point in
our conversations we complained about the lack of day passes
at the airport station, whereupon someone fished into her
drawer and said, here's a leftover one, take it!

Upstairs, the largest Tiffany dome in the world (in addition
to a more modest but I thought prettier one), a wing devoted
to the architect Louis Sullivan (most informative), and an
exhibition of jazz era photos by Eugene Smith.

We spent an inordinate amount of time here (there are
assorted other art and photography displays as well), and
by the time we left, it was close to lunchtime and the Park
Grill. So off we went.

As we make a comfortable and cultured-looking, fairly
sightly couple, we were seated in a nice booth in full view
of the patrons coming in the door and the potential custom
passing by the big picture windows.

Burgers seemed to be the order of the day - I ordered the
Kobe, Annie the regular. There was no substantial difference
- this does not mean that there is in general no difference
but rather that mine was either not Kobe or made from a
low grade of Wagyu (I don't think there is an enforceable
definition of Kobe in the US). They were big and pretty
good - by far not the best in the world, or in town, but
they did the job. Archetype 07 Shiraz was the featured wine
of the day - it was brighter and more acid than I recall,
but that's not a bad thing with burgers. It would have been
better with richer meat, such as real Wagyu.

Millennium Park (I think it's the same as what was called
Grant Park when I was young) is fun when it's sunny,
especially in summer. Cloud Gate and the Crown Fountain
(with Chairman Mao-like animated faces that spew water every
so often, so I speculated that it might ought to be called
the Clown Fountain) are not to be missed, the latter
especially in hot weather, when a good splash of water is
welcome. A traveling exhibition of Chinese sculptures, some
fun, others merely banal. We walked to the lake, skirting a
Lallapalooza or someone like that concert, and went north
and then along the river to the dock for the architectural
boat tour, for which we were early. So off for drinks at
Sweetwater Tavern, a large but pleasant bar/restaurant on
the so-called campus of Argosy so-called University. And
then the tour. Our docent was pretty knowledgeable and very
enthusiastic, and I learned more than I needed to about
mid-20th century midwestern architecture. And reflected
sourly on the fact that many of these famous old structures
did not exist before I did.

We'd picked up a Loop the Loop brochure: the featured works
are Cardinal and Eye (separate things) by Tony Tasset: the
first, which we didn't tumble to for quite a while, is
merely some banners fluttering from the banner poles, boring
and banal; the second is a large replica of an eyeball -
boring, banal, and badly executed. The speculation could be
made (perhaps was by Annie) that Mr. Tasset might be Mayor
Daley's nephew or something.

To steel ourselves for the rest of this urban art tour, we
stopped for drinks at the Plymouth, an old bar near the new
library - a pleasant enough place and amusingly cooled by
evaporative things that go on periodically like the misters
at the supermarket produce department.

The rest of the stuff is pretty good - Calder's Flamingo
was Calder; the Chagall Four Seasons was Chagall. Miro's
Chicago appeared to be absent, its place taken by a
construction site. Picasso's Chicago was, surprisingly or
not, Picasso. There was a Dubuffet monster that it was too
dark to see.

Back to the Hilton - I was not offered an elite amenity,
so on checkout was offered 1000 points, which I might or
might not have gotten, I have to check.

Andiamo or whatever it was was crowded and noisy, and the
drinks were costly, and the waitress wasn't by promptly
enough to prevent our walking out. We ended up at the
Gaslight Club, which is a latter-day imitation of the
Playboy Club, only the staff, from manager to bartender to
bunny-like girls, all spoke with east European accents.
Drinks and food cost about the same as at Andiamo or as
room service.

Off to our respective rooms for a bit of shuteye. By the
time I woke up, Annie had long gone.

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Of course I slept through this flight, tucked into my
comfy corner. That's what I'm good at. It's nice to arrive
at DCA midday - the place isn't crowded at all, and the
Metro runs frequently.