Until several years back, I would often go to my office and work during the long weekends. With vacation and off-time becoming scarcer then ever, I vowed last year never to do it again and rather make sure to get away. Good Friday was the first day to signal a long weekend this year and it came quite early. Fares to Florida looked sky high, California is too far, and so is another favourite hang out of mine, Vancouver. Besides, I was there in early February and will be going there again tonight. It did not take long to have another trip booked to Chicago. That city has always be exemplary good to me and came to my rescue this time.

It is always a winning combination for me to book a flight on Air Canada, preferably through Toronto to maximize the qualifying miles for the 2009 Elite status, a room at the Palmer House by Hilton and a ticket to the Lyric Opera. About a week after all arrangements were made, I found that Juan Diego Florez who was to sing Count Almaviva in Il Barbiere di Siviglia by Rossini cancelled all twelve evenings at the Lyric on advice of his doctor after having swallowed a fishbone. This is his signature role, and no matter how good the replacement may be, it is never the same.

The night before departure, I decided to travel light (no formal attire for the opera), packed my rollaboard and traveling mode set in. Good Friday marched in Montreal to find a cold and windy morning with sunny skies. The 8 am Rapidair flight to Toronto left on time, as always these days, with full capacity. Fortunately, Elite status allows me to board early and finding overhead bin space never seems to be an issue.

The new Toronto Terminal 1 looks like a maze but I have been there so many times that finding my way to the US Customs and Immigration took just several minutes. With no line up, I was pre-cleared in no time. I always have all my documents in order, submit advance passenger information online and thus spare myself surely extra questions. They, however, are paid to ask for at least a reason of travel. Officer: “What is the purpose of your trip?” Me: “An evening at the Lyric Opera”. Officer: “For how long are you meeting with them?” Me: “It is a one-time event.” Officer: “OK, go”. After September 11, I have reduced the number of weekend trips to the US, not wanting to subject myself to the new hassle when crossing borders. This year, I was in New York, and noticed that the officers seem to be more friendly and welcoming, at least to those having their paperwork in order. For the beginning of Easter weekend, the whole airport was remarkably quiet. After a short elevator ride, I entered the transborder Maple Leaf Lounge, and casually asked for the gate number for my 11:50 flight to Chicago.

“Sir, your flight was cancelled,” announced the lounge dragon – that is how they are sometimes referred to on this forum, especially when talking about the United Red Carpet Club. This girl was anything but… Patiently, she let me know that I am rebooked on the first flight out leaving at 16:10, and I can even keep the same bulkhead seat. Nothing else was available and with a snow storm brewing over Chicago, it was better to wait. How to kill more than seven hours? I was simply not prepared to sit that time out at the lounge. regardless how magnificent it is.

Fortunately, I paid for the ticket with my Aeroplan Plus Gold Amex card. There is flight delay insurance. When the flight at any airport is delayed for more fours hours, that happened to be my case, the insurance will pay up to $500 for reasonable accommodation, transportation, meals and sundry items. Yupee! Let’s go and earn some extra Hilton Honors points. First, I had to get back to Canada. Even though I never left the country, I was temporarily in the US and had to fill the customs card, marking it “flight cancelled.” They waived me through back quickly to friendly Toronto and having no patience to look and wait for a shuttle bus, I boarded the first taxi, never mind the $16 minimum fare, for a 2-minute ride to the Toronto Hilton.

That hotel, never a favourite of mine or many other flyertalkers, was under renovations with construction workers and material everywhere. The guy at the reception was rather surprised when I asked him for a day room and handed him my Hilton Honors Gold card. “Well, the rate is $109 and I will offer you a complimentary breakfast.” All right, forget the breakfast, I already had two that morning, just hand me the room key. Due to my status, I was assigned a room on the top floor of the renovated tower. Somehow, it must be due to my “structures”, if I were to believe my dear friend Carole, I was mentally already in Chicago and physically still in Toronto, only half way through.

The room was just fine. I guess at that moment any room would feel the same. What shall I do? I decided to call my friend in Prague, while perusing the room service menu. Like so many things nowadays, it was also “enhanced”, read cut. While talking to him, I made my choice, and was just about to tell him about the char-broiled cod to be delivered to my room soon, when he shouted, to make sure that I get it: “Remember, no food all day, it is Good Friday fasting.” I was saved from minor embarrassment, bid him “Happy Easter” and hung up to make a call to the room service. When somebody answered, they told me: “The guy is not here, he will call you later.” This was another first for me, now at the Hilton where I am usually a happy guest. The guy came back in several minutes and called me. I placed promptly my order, asking for the cod dish and a glass of sauvignon blanc. “Red or white,” said the guy. At that moment, I had just about enough, and replied” “Your choice.” Surely, he brought me the white variety. The enhanced meal tasted rather well, so did the wine, even though I would have enjoyed a second. Well, not on Good Friday.

Now fed, I was looking for some entertainment. “The Washington Square” by Henry James somehow would not do at that moment, so I turned the TV on. It took a long time for the plasma screen to come to life but I was rewarded by numerous choices: The funny lady Ellen Degeneres was just winding down her show and all I got to watch for another lady riding a monocycle around Ellen. Next came the venerable Barbara Walters and her girls on “The View”. I really did not care how much more our world will be automated in the near future, my hotel experience was more than enough, even on a Good Friday, so I moved on until an old black and white movie appeared on the screen. I do love Hollywood classics, and got a real kick from watching Miss Hepburn doing her “Kala lilies are in the bloom again” in “Stagedoor”(1937) while residing on the 49th floor of the Milenium Hilton in New York recently. Well, the same plasma screens TV and channel, very different experience. In Toronto, I was unfortunate enough, as I fast discovered, to be treated to a real gem called “The Prizefighter and a Lady” (1933). All I remember, in between dozing off, that yes, indeed the Prizefighter loved to fight, and yes, there was more than one lady at stake. Enough, I wanted to scream, and a true-and-tried concept “you get what you pay for” flashed through my mind. This all was to be “free”. I paid upon checking out, but frankly it was not worth much.

Taking the Hilton shuttle back to Terminal 1 was just fine. And before long I found myself in front of another US Customs and Immigration office, trying to enter the US for the second time that day. Our 16:10 flight was ready for boarding 20 minutes later than announced but Embraer190 is not a jumbo jet and all boarded rather quickly. The pilot mentioned “wheels up” procedure, pushing away from the gate at 16:17, only to make us wait on the tarmac another hour and half. Before boarding, I bought (as a sundry item) a book titled “Catherine the Great - Love, Sex, and Power”. None of that would, though, entice me to dig in it there and then. I just wished to be in Chi-ca-go! Finally, we landed at 18:13 (1 hour behind Toronto) Thanks to the Priority Pass, I was able to wake up and get an energy boost from a glass of red wine, some cheese and crackers at the Continental Lounge and headed for the CTA trains to the city. It is an amazing deal. A 40-minute ride from O’Hare to Monroe Street exit in the Loop costs just $2!

The Palmer House sits just around the corner, and under normal weather conditions is impossible to miss. When I left the subway and emerged in the Loop, it was dark, rainy and windy, with “danger-falling ice” signs spread all over. Just one wrong turn is enough to go in the wrong direction, walking unnecessarily around the long block. At 19:30, I finally presented my credentials at the Hilton Honors desk and was sent – as so many times in the past – to the amazing upgraded accommodation reserved for Golds and Diamonds. Tonight, it was the 20th (Diamond) Floor. It appears to be totally renovated with new decorations and furniture in public areas. They chose what I would perhaps call Chicago Art Deco style, if such thing ever existed, with emphasis on black and white. The room, though small but more than sufficient, looked equally stunning. It was a very long day and all I needed now was good night sleep.

Saturday was another story. After a complimentary breakfast at the top floor Executive Lounge and the storm now gone, it was time for another usual trip, a visit to the Arts Institute of Chicago, two minutes away. Almost every time when I visited, they had a special exhibition on. This time, it was Edward Hopper and Winslow Homer. Two rather different painters meet on the same floor, at the same time. I had about an hour to visit the “regulars” like Georges Seurat’s “La Grande Jatte”, my all-time favourite, because the special exhibition is open only to the museum members during the first hour. At 11, a long line up was created on the second floor. When they let us in, the masses took the predictable direction to the first door that happened to be the first room with Winslow Homer’s paintings. I decided to see Edward Hopper first, for a simple reason of a smaller crowd. Somebody called Hopper a bad painter but great artist. His subject matter is so American in the scenes he chose to paint. I was particularly captivated by his later, “city” period. Many of his paintings are dominated by comparable contrasts between a human scene and the space or the environment. I found myself going around and around and every time, I discovered something I did not notice before. After about an hour it was time to move over to see Winslow Homer. Upon entry to the first hall, I was unable to concentrate on Homer because too many Hopper’s images were fresh in my mind, so I decide to depart.

I do not know about you, but great art, being visual or music, makes me hungry. Since it was almost lunch time, I decided to skip the usual meal in the museum’s cafeteria (very good food and value for money), and thinking about Hilton Honors points decided to return to the hotel. With the ongoing renovations, the old French Quarter and Big Downtown restaurants are now history. The restaurant of the moment is Lockwood, named after the brother of Bertha Palmer, the hotel founder’s wife. To me, there is something highly appealing about old fashioned service and good food (more later).This new place is it, at least for the moment. I have never had a better (both taste and presentation) cobb salad, accompanied by delicious demi bottle of California Semillon, properly chilled and served with a smile. The former set me back by $14, the latter by $30 before tax and tip – definitely not a rock-bottom bargain but once more, you get what you pay for. This culinary delight was definitely worth the money. Our Canadian dollar being close to par with the greenback, things appear to me more affordable than in not so distant past.

Being a middle-aged gentleman, I prefer to get some rest before heading for the opera house later. I really love the Lyric with the old-fashioned way how they mail out the tickets in an extra small envelope made with quality paper, elevators with operators like in old movies, even the fur-clad matrons rushing for the entrance from their chauffeured limousines, trying to avoid animal-rights protestors. Personally, I would not wear natural furs but I understand both sides, and the occasional spectacle outside sets the mood for an opera, more often a tragedy than not.

Il Barbiere happens to be a comic opera, and tonight, it was some spectators that helped me get in the mood. A $10 small glass of Chandon sparkling wine is no bargain but I always buy one knowing that the extra proceeds will support this great art. While in a line for my favourite tipple, I noticed nearby a rather butch, short-haired young lady dressed in tights pants and wearing hiking boots. She was accompanied by another lady and a male friend, I suppose. They would not stop laughing and continued to tell one another all kinds of stories too daring to print here. When their turn came to order, they determined that it was all too expensive and moved over, continuing their rowdy behaviour. The last time I heard that butch lady open her mouth, she was comparing the soon to begin opera to “some kind of freak show”. Perhaps that is where she was heading with her party afterwards, I do not need to know. I digress.

Once settled comfortably in my seat on the 1st balcony. I was surprised that the view and sound were much better that at the far end of the orchestra, and the seats much less expensive. My seat mate, a widow accompanied by her daughter commented how people were casually dressed for the evening, perhaps also referring to me. Well, I like to dress formally for special occasions, like opening nights or when seated in orchestra front. A consolation: I was not wearing hiking boots. With Juan Diego out of commission, the show was stolen by Figaro, the Barber sung by Nathan Gunn. Besides being in great voice and acting well, he loves to display his unclad torso, like in his signature role of Billy Budd by Britten. It was no exception here, when his barber shop was wheeled in with him just getting up and getting dressed. The same feature of this great singer is already advertised in the brochure for the next season. He’ll be singing in the Pearl Fishers by Bizet, an opera I consider rather week and do not plan on attending. The main female role of Rosina was sung to perfection by the most accomplished mezzo-soprano of her generation, Joyce di Donato. Besides strong singing, she appears to be also a great actress looking rather well on the stage. I was fortunate enough to meet her at the stage door and she came across also as a great human being making time for her fans. One Edward Hopper’s painting depicts a scene from the theatre auditorium, claiming that drama exists there, too. It might as well hold true. During the intermission, waiting to exit to the hall, I overhead this conversation of an older couple: Her: “What do you say to this one?” Him: “Different”. Her: ”It is peppy.” Him (again): “Different.”. Peppy or different, it was a great evening of good singing, acting and entertainment.

What do you do early in the morning on Easter Sunday? Well, after another delicious breakfast, I went strolling along Dearborn Avenue, past the theatre district towards the Magnificent Mile, all the way to the beach in front of the Drake Hotel. In the summer, I often swam there, in the winter, when it is totally deserted, I love walking there, being alone next to this huge body of water filling me with energy. Being in festive mood, I felt like having a glass of champagne and before long I found myself in the magnificent, perhaps overdecorated lobby of the Drake. The place was swarming with all kinds of people, also definitely not dressed for the occasion. In the bar area, they had little signs on every table: “Love Yourself in the Morning.” trying to entice you into buying a feature product of the moment. Well I do love myself, all day, not only in the morning but somehow it did not feel comfortable and I moved along, passing the restaurant entrance. On offer – Easter Eggs Brunch for $85! Once before I read in the weekend supplement of Wall Street Journal about rising cost of food, and in the Chicago Tribune how eggs are going up as well. But $85 and no Hilton points, no thanks. Schlepping back along North Michigan Avenue, I ventured into Borders and besides a bunch of CDs, I bought a new biography: Joan Crawford, Hollywood Martyr. Forget Catherine the Great. Joan is the real thrill as I quickly discovered just after flipping through the paperback. Also, without trying to come across as prudish, one should be at least 18 to read such an entertaining but sordid story.

Now back at the Palmer House and with prearranged late check out, I had extra two hours to spend before returning to O’Hare. Their restaurant, Lockwood, was also advertising the Easter Sunday brunch, though at a more modest price of $65. I just wanted to see what was on offer and they got me hooked, Knowing that this time I can double dip by eating great food and earning the valuable points, I decided to stay. And what a feast indeed it was! For starters, a fabulous display of seafood, including jumbo shrimp and crab legs, all displayed with love on crushed ice. From the hot entrees, one could choose between lamb chops, free-range chicken ragu, add assorted steamed or roasted vegetables, and at the very end of the station get a generous portion of roast beef and smoked ham from the carvery. Easter-themed deserts and non-alcoholic beverages were included as well. I understand all too well how the economics law of substitution works, and nowadays, with ever growing prices of food staples, it is harder and harder for restaurants to remain profitable while offering quality food at reasonable prices. I’d rather eat at home my own culinary concoctions, knowing what went in it then subject myself to mediocre food at not so cheap prices and possible indigestion.

It was a spectacular ending of my visit to Chicago. That city was always kind to me, and that is something to remember. The return trip via CTA train to O’Hare, various non-descript lounges and uneventful but on time flights home via Toronto would make this already long trip report even longer, so I stop here. Cheers!