Two Schnauz Abroad: Deep Dish, Denied

It always happened, like clockwork, every couple of months or so. We’d be sitting on our beach blankets or chatting with friends at a local eatery, and the Midwest would inevitably come up in conversation. Usually it started when a transplant living on the eastside got stuck in westbound traffic and felt it a requirement to let everyone at the table know that when he (or she) was living in New York the public transit was brilliant, hell, just accessible. Invariably, someone else would list another well designed city, until eventually we got to Chicago. In unison, everyone shook their head that it truly was a fine, commuter-friendly city. “Expect for those gawd awful winter,” someone would chime in. Again, the head bobbing would ensue.

I’d seen the photos, I’d heard the stories, I knew the Cubs sucked for a century, but I needed to see it for myself. But not before grabbing some nosh in the liberal oasis that is Madison, Wisconsin. Receiving a fine recommendation from a friend, we stopped into a place, ironically named, The Weary Traveler for some classic Midwestern done with a contemporary twist. Basically, beef and cheese cooked by granolas (the nuevo hippies). Getting to the grub was a treat. Within the confines of the city lay a charming brick-building part of town full of cute shops and smiling pedestrians, giving the area a nice heartbeat. The restaurant served up some amazing dishes, the atmosphere was comfortable and our server was exceptional friendly. I’d say four and a half out of five stars, if I had yelped it.

So far so good I thought to myself, as my car suddenly screeched to a halt an hour out of Chicago. To make a long, painful story of alternate routes and stop-and-go short, the traffic in and around ‘Chi Town’ is an absolute shit show. It’s no wonder the mass transit is quality, for had it not been, riots would have destroyed the city decades ago. Looking at it optimistically, it gave us plenty of time to see the ins and outs of a place I was still very unfamiliar with.

We pulled up to my friend Courtney’s apartment, an area called Lake View (two hours later than planned) and attempted to park. Again, I will jump past the debacle that was parking in town, and say that Courtney had a lovely, shared three bedroom flat complete with all the charm one would expect when living in a city built of brick. We ate a dinner of beer and protein and headed to bed eager to get an early start on our weekend of sightseeing.

Operation Windy City
We brought a visiting vengeance on the city that I most closely liken to a blitzkrieg approach to tourism. As if my ankle injury had been simply an old memory, we walked all over Chicago, and then walked it again. For all I kept hearing about the amazing rail system, the ‘L’, I wished I would have pulled my hiking shoes out of my suitcase sooner. My dearest design school friend, Courtney and her boyfriend, Dan (long-time Chicagoan), the troopers they were, valiantly guided us through their city. And when they were tending to their own lives, we lead ourselves. We checked out Wrigley Field, the Naval Pier, and the remnants of the Columbus Fair (as I had been reading Devil in the White City). We took an architectural boat ride down the Chicago River; saw old buildings, new buildings, Trump buildings and tower buildings. We strolled through Millennium Park, saw a metal jellybean and hobbled past the Chicago Theatre. We ventured to Lake Shore Drive, Haymarket, Michigan Avenue and host of other popular destinations. About the only thing we didn’t do was eat a deep dish pizza and that’s because it was silly expensive and I already knew I was not a huge fan. Sorry. If it was free, cheap, or visible from the road, we saw it. By this point in our trip we were getting a bit concerned with our spending and viewed Chicago with the eager, optimistic but rather monetarily challenged eyes of say, student travelers.

All-in-all, I really enjoyed the Windy City and recall on several occasions stating that if this city didn’t turn into a frozen tundra in the winter, I could live here. Alas, just like days past it was time to bid the city farewell and say hello to a new one. (Thanks a lot for the wonderful time Chicago, and hey, at least you’ve got the White Sox just down the road. I know this now because we saw the stadium driving out… and it didn’t cost a thing.)