"I TOLD you to go to the doctor BEFORE we left!"...

...or , better, "Who's your ride?!"

The week before last we were out on the patio chatting by the fire bowl (before winter blew in) and decided to spend our anniversary (this past Friday) in Chicago. We've never made travel plans to go to Chicago, so someone told my wife that the best way to get there was from South Bend (Indiana), about an hour and a half to the northwest of us. So she got on her iPad and found us a hotel and bought what she thought were round-trip tickets to and fro on Amtrak. Well, we had the to, but on Saturday morning as we were getting ready to go get breakfast we discovered that we didn't have the fro.

South Bend Amtrak Station

It turns out you can Amtrak into Chicago (on the last leg of the Lake Shore Limited train between Chicago and Boston, where it originates) in the morning, but the trains going back leave after 9pm. So what we had for the fro were a pair of tickets on the Miller Transportation Hoosier Ride that departs from the Chicago Greyhound Bus terminal for Columbus (Ohio) via Ft. Wayne (I found it poetic, bus station people aside). So we had driven to South Bend (using GPS that initially took us 30 minutes out of our way to "train station" down a road that turned to no pavement in the woods like a couple of rubes) and left the car at the Hooterville-sized station overnight. And, much to our surprise, the bus ride was smooth and on time and the driver was a burly black man in a toboggan hat that was serious (in a humorous way, oxymoronically) about his business, threatening jail time or, at the least, being put on the curb

somewhere if there was any trouble. He was emphatic about his bus not being a party bus. And he drove us right to the South Bend airport (where the car wasn't) in good time.

Fortunately, my wife's sister lives in the next town(ship, village, whatever-- we weren't in Chicago anymore) north (in Michigan) and our nephew and his family were in visiting, so he and his wife fetched us from the airport, took us to the car, and we followed them back for lunch and a quick visit, before heading back south into Indiana. We drove through snow most of the way. (When we left Friday, it was near 70 degrees at home and in Chicago; when we got home it was in the 20s with the wind chill).

As for Amtrak. The train was over an hour late. We were stopped dead for more than a half hour with no explanation until we started moving, one stop away from Chicago's Union Station (we were told most unceremoniously that the conductors had reached their time limit and new ones had to be brought in). Seating was first-come-first-serve in coach and in the first car there were no empty seats together. I found us a pair in the next car up, among the people and things strewn about from the longer trip. When we finally pulled in to de-train, they opened only one door for more than one car. It was like waiting to get off an airplane. It was so NOT worth the cost of the tickets. And we could have driven to Chicago faster. (My sister-in-law advised us to, next time, take the South Shore Line from the South Bend airport to Chicago's Millennium Station-- closer to where our hotel was, actually; I looked it up and it's only $13.25 one-way. Live and learn, right?)

But we made it, arriving hungry (2 hours to Hooterville station with no food or coffee, over an hour wait, then 2 hours into Chicago), so we left the hotel to wander about and stopped in at the first place we found that would serve us lunch (and a beer), the Rock Bottom Pub & Brewery, where we were fed, beered, and had a server from Texas. While we were waiting for our food, I noticed a Weber Grill place with this huge orange grill over the sign, so I says to the missus, I says, "Look over there, there's a Weber grill store in downtown Chicago!" (I even sent a picture to my grilling brother-in-law back in Texas.) Turned out to be a Weber Grill restaurant (and inside you can buy grilling books, hats, shirts, etc.). What a rube am I.

Navy Pier top right, has Ferris wheel

From there we set off in a windy drizzle to find the Magnificent Mile shopping district on Michigan St., but walked under Michigan St., so we missed it (what a couple of rubes are we), ending up at Lake Michigan, at the ginormous Navy Pier (where we rubes discovered, to our disenchantment, that there is absolutely no Navy there as the name would suggest). We walked the entire length of that place (3,300 feet long-- that's 11 football fields) and then some, before heading back to find the "Mag-Mile" (as locals refer to it). I was kind of bummed, though. We made it all the way to Lake Michigan, but I never got the chance to take off my shoes and socks and dip my toes into it-- the weather didn't cooperate (and the water, my wife tells me, is cold as hell). We also passed Harry Caray's bar but never went in...

We found Michigan St., climbed the steps, stopped for a picture under the street sign (a kindhearted and portly gentleman offered to take one of the two us, promising not to run off with my phone and explaining how he himself had lived in Texas), then wended our way through the crowds to the west end and the Hancock Building, which has a happenin' observation area called 360° Chicago on the 94th floor touting this insanity called Tilt!-- for $7 you can hold on to handrails and while you lean against the window pain, an attendant tilts the windows and you out over the curvature of the Earth at a 45° angle. I watched a guy and his little daughter do this and almost wet myself (see last pic at bottom). WHY would anyone want to do that?!

Working our way back east toward the hotel, we passed by the historic, very Gothic 4th Presbyterian Church on the Magnificent Mile and went in-- what a beautiful building/complex. It has a cloisters/courtyard next to it between buildings. The inside was just amazing-- looked more like a scaled-down version of a Roman Catholic cathedral.

The last shopping we did was in a Walgreen's to buy cough medicine. I've been congested and not feeling all that well for the last week and a half, and the coughing spasms were making my chest ache.

Last stop, dinner. And guess where we went? You got it, the Weber Grill grill, where we waited 30 minutes for a less than hoped for experience (I'd really rather have bought a grill), but it was the nightcap on our anniversary trek through the Windy City (which lived up to it's name while we were there).

Back at the hipster Aloft hotel, we asked about breakfast and were told that it starts at 8am. Thinking we had a train to catch, we opted the next morning to dash out for a bite in the cold and wind. A block away from the hotel is the Rock'n'Roll McDonald's, which you have to see in person to appreciate. When we got to the ordering counter, I noticed a pair of trash cans with Chinese on them. Then I looked behind us and saw Russian for "thank you" on a different pair. The entire restaurant is a museum of McDonald's history, with displays of items from all the decades the company has been in business. I thought it was pretty cool, actually.

The Millennials running the hotel would have gotten a chuckle knowing we used Uber for the first time, to get to a Greyhound station... But it was easy, the driver was a very nice lady who chatted with us (by comparison to the cab driver from the Amtrak station who said virtually nothing and drove through downtown Chicago like he was in a rally race, but then smiled and wished us a nice time in Chicago as we were paying). Once we got on the road back to Ft. Wayne, we had to make one last pit stop before home...

We stopped at a walk-in, urgent care clinic where I was diagnosed relatively quickly (for a Saturday afternoon) with a sinus infection, an ear infection, and bronchitis. Thankfully the pharmacy was open at our Kroger around the corner, so I got meds and slept better last night than in a week and a half. (But I was supposed to lead the church services this morning and fill in for my seminary buddy who teaches confirmation class between the services-- I had to call in sick to my pastor, literally, last night.)

It was an adventure! We were reminiscing during dinner at the Grill grill about where we were a year ago celebrating our anniversary. We were in downtown Ft. Worth to see the holiday Parade of Lights (with a gazillion other people), and were at the Flying Saucer Pub having a beer and a pretzel while waiting for the parade to begin when this seminary plan was hatched. I can't believe a year has flown by so fast...

I can only wonder what next year's anniversary will bring!

С Богом, ya'll! May you never have the urge to tilt...

Even these guys can't believe it...

P.S. Oh and while at my sister-in-law's, my nephew was telling us about making deer jerky (he gave us some to bring back with us-- it's really good!) and other meat items, he mentioned that he made Italian sausages. That made me think of the day's New York Times crossword that had a five-letter ingredient in Italian susage that I filled in, but didn't know: anise. So, not knowing a lick about processing carcasses into snacks and such, and wanting to keep the conversation lively, I inquired "Do you use anise in your Italian sausage?", pronouncing it ah-NEES. I was instantly corrected in unison... "AN-iss."

O what a rube am I.

(That's ah-PAH-stroh-fee, not AH-pah-stroh-fee.)