DanMargarita.com

Fri. Aug. 24---It's cost us $15 to take a cab from my house to the Logan Express shuttle in Woburn. Considering that if I leave my backyard, I am in Woburn, or that I could probably take a cab from one end of Comm. Ave. to the other for half of that, it seems a bit excessive. We arrive at our airline, America Trans Airway (ATA). I see you've never heard of them either. It's always a little unsettling to fly on a previously unheard of airline. You imagine the pilot sitting in an open cockpit, wearing goggles, with a white scarf flung over his shoulder.

The flight is fine and we take the train to State and Lake, and rather than take the $3 cab ride to the hotel, we opt to walk. Unfortunately, we end up going in circles for a half an hour, with our luggage in tow, but hey, we saved three bucks. After checking in at our hotel, we change and go to an Italian restaurant, Lino's, that our concierge has recommended. The food is terrific, as is the service. Our water glasses are kept filled at all times. Considering that our dinner for two is over $90, that isn't too much to ask.

Sat. Aug. 25---Rain today, so we elect to do the indoor thing, and head to the Art Institute of Chicago. There are many works from some of the history's greatest artists, as anyone who's ever seen Ferris Bueller's Day Off can attest to. Among the collection is Edward Hopper's Nighthawks. Sadly, most people are more familiar with the schlock version that features Humphrey Bogart, Marylin Monroe, James Dean and Elvis Presley as patrons/employees at a late night city diner.

The next stop is for dinner at The Big Bowl. The Chinese food is OK, but they have a brownie sundae that can't be beat! After dinner we walk across the street to the ESPN Zone to catch the rest of the Red Sox/Rangers came on one of their satellite TV's. The restaurant has a large screen TV that is surrounded by several smaller TV's, featuring different sporting events. At the top of the eighth inning I experience a moment of panic when the Sox game switches to a hunting show. Fortunately, before we are forced to watch some guy blow the head off a defenseless animal, they switch back to the ballgame. Unfortunately, they switch to a college football game when the Sox game moves into extra innings.

We step outside and hail a cab. After a $3.10 cab ride around the block to take what amounts to a right turn, our cab speeds off an a death defying trip, the likes of which haven't been seen since Starsky & Hutch went off the air. We arrive at our destination Buddy Guy's blues club, Legends.

When you think of the blues, you think of such great performers as B.B. King, Muddy Waters and Howlin' Wolf, so it comes as a bit of a surprise to me upon entering the club to find that 99% of the patrons and most of the band members are white. This is a little like going to the Apollo Theater expecting to be sitting with members of the NAACP, and seeing the Temptations and finding yourself with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, watching the Osmonds. The band was pretty good though, and we stay for a little over an hour before calling it a night.

Sun. Aug 26---After breakfast, we hop on the train bound for Wrigley field. The Cardinals are in town to play the Cubs, and as usual, many Cards fans have made the five-hour drive up from St. Louis for the weekend. This is an especially tough ticket given that both teams are fighting for the division title. Standing behind a young couple at the "Game Day" ticket window, the young man turns away empty-handed. I ask him what was available, to which he replies, "Standing room only."

As I step up to the window, the attendant calls the young man back, and makes him another offer which is declined. The attendant then offers me two seats, ten rows behind home plate for $60. The price was apparently too steep for the young couple, but I, no stranger to Fenway Park's $110 per pair box seats, gladly accept.

It's a perfect day for baseball and we watch Sammy Sosa go 3 for 4 with two homers and four RBI's en route to a 6-1 Cubs victory. After the game we stop at Stanley's, run by former Boston native, Artie Moher, for a drink.

Thrown by the time difference, we are a little late getting to the ESPN Zone to watch Pedro Martinez' return vs. the Texas Rangers. We are seated down front in the comfortable high-backed, leather chairs that have speakers in the headrest, so you can listen to whichever satellite feed to choose to watch. Our waiter, whose name we do not catch, is quick witted, but slow footed. We watch the Sox go down in defeat, and though I make eye contact with our waiter three times when I want to pay the bill, he ignores me and continues to make himself scarce. Finally, I go to the server's station and ask him if I can have the check. To which he replies, "No."

While I found him moderately amusing earlier in the evening, his inattentive service has lessened the impact of his humor on me, as he will undoubtedly discover by my tip.

Mon. Aug. 27---Last year through no fault of our own, we missed our flight back to Boston from Chicago. This year, through totally our own fault, (well the subway signs were a little confusing) we end up on the wrong train while attempting to get to the airport, and we miss our plane again. We get booked on the next flight which not for almost seven hours later, but we cannot check our bags for another three hours. After doing so, we contemplate heading back to the city to kill some time, but our history of getting to the airport on time is not good, so we decide to hang around the airport until our flight leaves.

I love Chicago, and it must love me back because it never seems to want to let me go.

Thanks for a great trip, Shazzy.