America 2015: Day Thirteen (11 August)

Take me back to Chicago
Lay my soul to rest
Where my life was free and easy
Remember me at my best.
Take me back to Chicago
Where music was all I had
I tried to be good as I could
And sometimes that made me sad.
Take me back to Chicago, to Chicago

                                                                                                                   - Chicago

Tuesday 11 August

(I meant to report yesterday that I picked up a head cold, but the medication I picked up is doing wonders!)

It was a bittersweet thing waking up this morning, realising that it is our final full day in Chicago. The week has quite literally flown by, and I’m not okay with that. On the other hand, it seems a lifetime ago – because we’ve packed so much in, not because I’m not having an awesome time over here – that we were in New York City. Really, it’s only been a week since that spectacular night in The Bronx, watching the Yankees beat up on the Boston Red Sox. It feels like I’ve been away from work for ages, and I’m very rested.

Had a quiet morning around the house, uploading photos and blogging, before we headed off to have lunch with Scott, who is easily one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. In typical Scott fashion, we ended up at Twin Peaks, which I thought was some sort of mountain-themed restaurant, but actually turned out to be something more approaching Hooters, where the waitresses wear…well, not much at all really, but flannelette-pattern shirts that, um, show off their assets. This after we said “NO” to Hooters. Oh well, at least the food was good, and Scott told us a bunch of his stories that had us in stitches. A master storyteller, who’d do really well in Australia.

Female and Male toilet entrances at Twin Peaks.

 

Importantly, we gave Scott a packet of Tim Tams. The guy’s never tasted them before, so it’ll be a life-changing moment. On that, we seem to bring truckloads over here when we come, because so many Americans we know absolutely love them. For a while, they were selling a kind of Tim Tam in this country, but they’re of an inferior quality to the Australian product.

We caught up with Mike and Jane (and Bri) afterward, before picking up the girls from their day of shopping. Really glad I dodged a bullet on that one today. It was a rough sort of afternoon, having to farewell a bunch of people for the last time. Brian and Debbie especially. They’ve always been so awesome to me, and I can’t ever thank them enough for their kindness, let alone the amazing things Brian said at the wedding. You guys are both wonderful people, and that fact can’t be stated enough! Can’t wait ‘til May already!

Then it was everyone piling into Matt’s Chevrolet Suburban – we were jammed in like sardines! – for the trip downtown to Chicago’s West Side and to US Cellular Field, home of the Chicago White Sox. In comparison to the Cubs, who are a fairly well-known franchise in most places, the Sox are the second cousin, but with the decades-long curse that’s befallen the Cubs, the White Sox are more successful, although not so much this year.

Nice look into the LA bullpen

 

Thanks to the wonders of Groupon, we paid a very small entry price for what’s called the Patio Party. Basically, you roll in there an hour or so before the game, grab a plate, fill up on as much ballpark fare (chicken, hotdogs, pasta, pizza etc.) as you can handle, then drink a lot of beer, and afterward make your way to your bleacher seats in the outfield. The patio is close to both bullpens out in deep centre field, so you can eat and drink whilst watching the pitchers warming up. Pretty cool!

It really was a sparkling night for baseball. Sitting in the outfield, watching the Sox and the Los Angeles Angels with a bunch of great people was a lot of fun. Even despite the horribly drunk row of girls in front of us. This was nightmarish stuff, folks. One of them believed me when I told her that I was friends with Keith Urban. She asked for his number, but I covered by saying that I had it only on my Aussie cell. She seemed to buy that.

There was a moment where one of them randomly kissed a guy, to which I asked them to sit down, reasoning that I’d come a long way to watch the game and didn’t want to watch them. That just started up even more hilarity. Funniest of all? Allan’s dead-on impersonation. The whole thing was a wonderful example of what happens when you drink way too much free beer.

 



White Sox win = fireworks!

For the record, the White Sox won 3-0 and, for the first time in the 100+ year history of Major League Baseball, every single home team won. So, we were a part of history. It was a very memorable evening for a lot of varying reasons, and it’s got me amped up for more baseball this week in St Louis, and a Cubs game next May when we swing back through after the Indianapolis 500. 

Tomorrow we leave Chicago and begin the long trek south, into Missouri and on down to Tennessee and deeper still. I’ll certainly be leaving with mixed emotions. It’s been an epic seven days.