Downtown Chicago

Google time:  6 hrs 40 minutes

Ewy Carnival time:  11 hrs

You've never seen a big boned fellow move as fast as me unloading our two suitcases, a small refrigerator, three baby-related bags, two cameras, a laptop, Paco's food, our coats and two random handfuls of various cords and nipples while a line of taxis gathered behind my car.  And then I pulled our cart away from the Corolla and saw Paco's eyes.  They longed for an answer to the question on Sarah's mind, and maybe that of our developing baby's brain, too.  "What about us?" 

And then we plowed into the lobby of the dying-to-be-cosmo Red Roof Inn Chicago Downtown.  It's still a Red Roof Inn.  The facade says "historic splendor".  The rooms say "we pay Martin Mull to attract cheap, retired people who need a place to nap after an evening at the Country Buffet." 

This room is half the size of the suburban edition of the franchise.  Paco has no room to wag his tail.  Whenever he gets happy you can hear the neighbor yell, "who is it?"

Our hotel is at Saint Clair and Ontario.  We're not far from the lake; whichever lake it is that makes this city so damn cold.

In my haste to avoid being killed by a guy feeding a family of 14 on a cabbie's salary, I failed to get enough diapers and the--God bless it--Moby wrap.  So I found the valet guy who drove off with my car and asked if he could tell me where it was.  He was busy so I asked if I could just ride with him in the next car.  He was fine with that.  So I got to ride through Chicago in some lady's new Lexus.  Very nice.  I could see her in the lobby window watching the valet pick up strangers in her statusmobile.  But if there's anything good about having a child, it's that you care less about what other people think.  When you need a twenty-foot piece of cloth or a rubber suckee or whatever makes your kid happy, you do whatever it takes to secure its presence.  We drove about ten blocks and then had to walk back with a handful of diapers, etc.  I tried to pretend that I didn't need the valet guy walking back with me.  "Oh, no, don't bother I'll just get on ahead," I said to the Nigerian fellow.  And then, not so sure where to go, I pretended to be real interested in the duct system in the parking garage.  I looked up at the ceiling and mumbled some things.  The valet and the parking attendant watched me with great curiosity until I shouted, "they do things differently here!  A lot of pipes!"  I guess I was pretending to be an HVAC guy.  And it bought me enough time to get the company of the valey guy. 

Now we're back in the room and thinking about the Dunkin Donuts down the street.

 

I have lots of footage queued up for a few new videos...if you care.  But thanks for taking the trip with us.  One day you may have to open your doors to our wayward son..."I don't know what's wrong but I'm not happy unless I'm moving..."