Kep and I took in Chicago yesterday.
We walked around in the rain. We saw the weird metal donut. We went to the Art Institute and got bored and tired. I hobbled around, one crooked hand holding my poor old back. It's making me think I should exercise in the future. Far in the future, when Harrison Ford is young again and we have to fight with robots just to live one more day in our vampire free cave. I'm not sure why we would be living together (where is Keppie?).
Both of us were excited to have an authentic Chicago experience. We went to Pizzeria Due across the street from our weird hotel and ate real Chicago deep dish pizza. Turned out that Due was pretty much the same as Unos, and by that I mean that it was started by the owner of Unos, across the street from Unos, with exactly the same menu as Unos.
Other than Keppie trying to look like fat lipped Al Capone, the highlight was hearing an intense blue eyed woman sitting at an adjacent table say, "It wasn't working so he cut off his hand. It was the best decision he could have made. Now he sells bionic arms."
Wiping pizza grease from our faces we made our way to a little club called Blue Chicago. Obviously we wanted to see some Blues. All the other white tourists did too. And we all saw/heard some good blues but it felt a little contrived and inauthentic.
I suppose we did arrive a little late to the Chicago Blues scene. Sixty years?
Now we have left, back on the road headed to my sister's place in Missouri for Thanksgiving. Still grey, precipitation still mixed.