Fueling up the stomach for a long day ahead, we started with breakfast at Papa Vini’s in Brookfield, IL. After being greeted by an older gentleman who appeared to be the owner, we mentioned something about being in a hurry. Without so much as taking a breath, he gestured to his staff aggressively and uttered a phrase in Italian. A split second later we were seated, presented with menus, and facing an eager waitress telling us which menu items are prepared the fastest. Talk about service!
After inhaling our food, our next stop was the Park ‘N Ride at the end of the blue line in Forest Park, IL. My poor car tires took a savage beating from the (all too common) potholes, ruts, and railroad crossings all the way there, but they soldiered on without popping in defeat. With the $5 parking fee paid and our CTA transit cards purchased, we hopped on the train for the 30 minute ride into downtown.
Our first stop is Chicago’s famous Field Museum. Much to the chagrin and grumbling of folks who were sweating from standing in a snaking ticket line for an hour, we flashed our CityPass booklets and legitimately skipped to the front, entering without delay. Doing so gave us the smug feeling of being VIPs, whatever the modest truth may have been.
Rounding past the ticket booth, we came face-to-face with a menacing Tyrannosaurus Rex named Sue.
She’s the largest and most complete T. Rex ever found, and I dare say the scariest too. Being 42 feet long and standing 13 feet tall at her hips, one can’t help but admit that, despite our ego, we’d have been her dinner if we had coexisted with this carnivore (as Kent Hovind would have you believe). Her large teeth leave no room for speculation about her diet. She wouldn’t have given us any quarter.
After gawking at Sue for a few minutes and snapping the obligatory photos, we started with the Ancient Americas exhibit, a cultural anthropology exhibit if ever there was one. The reader being smart enough to ascertain which peoples the exhibit chronicles, I won’t bother to mention them. The silent will of my hand to grasp an ancient tool, crafted and used by a simple homo sapien 10,000 years ago, was interrupted by just an inch of glass. Despite all our sophisticated technology and skyscrapers, we have a very humble past indeed. For reasons better left to psychologists, this was almost a cathartic experience for me, and it only inflated my sense of pride I alluded to in the previous post. Following this was the Ancient Egypt exhibit, complete with mummies and Egyptian artifacts featuring hieroglyphics, undoubtedly the two most popular images of ancient Egypt. Unfortunately their meaning was lost on me, not being learned in the Rosetta Stone. Next up was the Real Pirates exhibit, chronicling the journey of the doomed pirate/slave ship Whydah Gally, captained by the infamous Sam Bellamy. The highlight of the exhibit was the impressive booty, the only pirate treasure ever discovered. After spending a few hours getting through just these three exhibits, I was reminded again of the futility of trying to read every placard and see every artifact in a museum, especially one as behemoth as the Field Museum. The exhibits were as detailed as the museum is large. To give just that one museum its proper due would take a few months, at least.
After outstaying our welcome at the Field Museum, security showed us the way out. We walked north up the shoreline of Lake Michigan, past throngs of people. Some were cooking, some were tanning, and others were sitting lazily with a fishing line cast in the waters. So relaxed was the atmosphere, I don’t think the would-be fishermen cared whether or not their slack fishing lines ever hooked anything. A whiff of chicken barbeque had our stomachs growling in envy, bestowing an olfactory delight to accompany the stunning visual of the Chicago skyline to our left and Lake Michigan to our right.
We didn’t walk far before the distant sound of the spraying water from Buckingham Fountain crescendoed into a roar. To say that it is HUGE, even with capitalization, doesn’t do it justice. Even as we were 100 feet away from the fountain, Chicago defended her reputation as the “Windy City” by spraying us with water from the top of the fountain.
Walking further north, we saw a large crowd of 20 somethings, all cheering a loud but unseen announcer. Curious, and with nothing better to do, we decided to see what was happening. Fortune was with us, and we arrived just in time to witness Ronnie Renner break the world record (twice in a row) for the highest vertical dirtbike jump.
Continuing our northern trek on foot and transitioning into Millennium Park, we happened upon an opera performance by the Grant Park Orchestra at the Jay Pritzker Pavilion. After watching for a few minutes, we ambled over to the Cloud Gate
and then into Wrigley Square where we discovered the Millenium Monument. It seems if you just keep walking in Chicago, you’re bound to encounter things you weren’t expecting. We even saw a few disciples of the Free Hugs campaign, but I was too germ conscious to participate.
Heading towards the Magnificent Mile stretch of Michigan Avenue, we paused over the Chicago river and watched party boats pass underneath, returning a few waves to happy boaters. After crossing the river, we strolled up the Magnificent Mile, where Dad bought an umbrella at Eddie Bauer on account of storm clouds rolling in. We made it as far as the John Hancock Observatory before serious hunger began to set in. Unfortunately, the Cheesecake factory at the base of the Observatory had a 70-90 minute wait, so we skipped it. On the walk back, we admired the Fourth Presbyterian Church from the outside (it was locked). Its gothic architecture, stained glass windows, and ivy covered walls evoked an ephemeral flashback of my earlier travels to the great cathedrals of Europe.
After walking through a quiet court nestled behind the church, we continued our search for food on the walk back to the Chicago Loop. The sun was now falling below the horizon and the storm clouds had fortunately passed overhead. We saw several street performers (i.e. talented beggars), including a leopard clad contortionist, hip hop dance groups, and a guy playing soprano saxophone. Mixed in were garden variety beggars, merely sitting with a downtrodden look and an outstretched styrofoam cup. Considering their more talented competition, I’m surprised if they get any charity at all.
After surviving the whole day without without being approached by a panhandler, we finally got one as we arrived back in the loop area. Outpacing him, we ran into a CTA employee who suggested a street with a few restaurant choices. We chose Elephant & Castle on Adams Street. No wait, nice British atmosphere, great food, and reasonably priced to boot!
Dinner conversation was heated but respectful. With me firing epistemological artillery against organized religion, Dad took up the religion’s shield and defended valiantly, but it shouldn’t come as a surprise that no consensus was reached. We left around 10:30pm and hopped back on the train for the long journey home. Exhausted, we drifted off to sleep well after midnight.