Chicago kicks ass.
I went up there this weekend to check ‘The Messiah’ with a very, very cool lady friend. Her company alone was a treat. One of us was dreamy, and I’m thinking it was NOT me…
We stayed on the ‘Michigan Mile’, spent some Christmas money (but not too much), ate dinner, ate a mighty fine breakfast brunch at the hotel, and this is what ‘the finer things’ are made of.
In St Loius, on a Saturday evening, unless there’s a Blues game or something, the sidewalks roll up. Tumbleweeds collide with fire hydrants, and forlorn streets are animated only by steam billowing up from the once-proud 19th century infrastructure that still miraculously delivers heat and stuff.
In Chicago, on the other hand, one city block on Michigan Ave during the Christmas rush contains, oh, 3,000 or so people. I saw nothing but happy and friendly people (contrast to New York, where a certain assertiveness that I can do, thank you, gets a begrudging response).Â
The Macy’s mall and Saks were stuffed to the brim. Borders even more so.Â
The Symphony Center is a brilliant showpiece that stands up quite well amidst them all (but I haven’t been to Albert Hall or the music hall joint in St. Petersburg that’s supposed to be mighty fine).
Baroque symphony, singers with richness, instuments that sang like bells, all done seemingly effortless. Goosebumps at no extra charge. (note: Apollo chorus now auditioning, January something. Call now)
I had to drive her past the hallmark clocktower of the Morton Salt hq buiding as we crossed the N. branch of the Chicago River, and our tires hummed over the decking of the 19th century drawbridge. The Kennedy building. Gigantic and majestic towers piercing the sky. Moon shimmering across the lake.  (you get the point)Â
Hellofatown.  Sorry, Joe Jackson. (huh?)
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