Chicago - Day 3

The Greek Omelet sounded like a good choice at Tavern on Rush.



But it wasn’t a good choice. It sucked. The spinach was watery. And they didn’t cut it up, so you’d get these big wads of wet spinach. Also, it was bland.

It came with a lousy raspberry scone. It tasted like a raspberry studded stick of butter.

But aside from that, it was awesome.

After breakfast, I took a walk to Lake Shore Drive. The waterfront in Chicago is great. The whole city is lined with parks, beaches and bike paths.







You probably notice that the water on Lake Michigan is incredibly blue. That’s because it’s actually Listerine.





If you’re not careful, the waves can sneak up on you and suck you into the lake.



As they say in Chicago, “that would suck.”

At North Beach, there was a beach volleyball tournament going on.





I was trying to figure out who the sponsor was, but I couldn’t tell. Cause the advertising was really subtle. Can you find the sponsor?



I’ll give you a hint…



Here are some pictures from North Beach:







It’s often an overlooked part of Chicago history, but the effects of the Great Chicago Flamingo Migration of 1923 can still be seen today.



This guy is actually asleep in this shot.







(Da Bears.)

After a loop around North Beach, I followed the promenade south to Oak Street Beach. Oak Street is a smaller beach not far from the John Hancock building and the Magnificent Mile. It also seemed like a good place to grab a plot of sand and take in some sun. So I parked for an hour and worked on my ridiculous farmer’s tan. (Theres actually a laugh track that plays every time I take off my shirt.)

For lunch, I went to Mr. Beef.



(In case you can’t read it, the street sign reads “Mr. Beef Blvd.”)

From what I gather, Mr. Beef is kind of the Pat’s/Geno’s of Italian Beef sandwiches. But instead of ordering a “Wiz wit,” you specify hot or sweet. You can also ask for it “juicy.” Which scares me. So I ordered hot and left it non-juicy.

I took my sandwich and went to sit by the window. But then, I saw this sign.



So clearly I had to dine elegantly.

I walked in, found a seat on one of the elegant grey picnic tables and basked in the elegantness.



I marveled at the way the elegant grey concrete floor blended seamlessly with the elegant white cinderblock walls and drop ceiling. And then there was the elegant, 6 foot tall Blues Brother statue in the corner. The elegant Rat Pack record album covers on the walls and ceiling beams. The elegant autographed head-shots from Joe Mantegna and Jay Leno.

I wonder if Mr. Beef does weddings…

Once in the proper mindset, I unwrapped my elegant sandwich.



The Italian Beef is topped with celery, carrots, green peppers, banana peppers, hots and onions. All vegetables. So technically, it’s healthy. It’s also topped with “Juice.” I’m not entirely sure what’s in this “Juice.” But it turned the paper completely transparent.

It also turned the table completely transparent. So I finished my Italian Beef while staring at my slightly-less-pasty thighs.

Wiping the last of the juice from my fingertips, I couldn’t help but wonder why Tony Bennett didn’t work “Mr. Beef” into the lyrics of “Chicago (That toddling town).” Lots of stuff rhymes with beef. Chief. Leaf. Teeth, if you speak with a lisp. Plus, it couldn’t be worse than “On State Street, that Great Street”

Full of Italian beef, I went back to the hotel to shower and nap. Because, really, naps are what vacations are all about.

Afterwards, I headed back to Wicker Park and went to WestFest.

Chicago architecture draws from many diverse influences.



The architect of this building at the corner of Damen and Division apparently has a thing for snowmen.

Chicago is also renowned for its plethora of public art.



This installment features a naked woman who looks vaguely like Toni Braxton holding a vomiting fish. It also shows Corbin Bernsen disguised as a wolf and Dennis Rodman peeking out at a raccoon from between the leaves of cabbage.

This is, of course, meant to symbolize the class struggle as it relates to the seafood industry.

This guy was obviously confused about how the whole bike thing is supposed to work:



Here are some random pictures from the day:



(The Sears Tower from my hotel room window)











(In case you can't read it, the license plate reads "DIGMUP 2")















After WestFest, I ate dinner at Pontiac Café, an old gas station that they converted to a restaurant with lots of outdoor seating. The atmosphere was cool. The chicken sandwich was mediocre.



I’m definitely gonna have to do better on food tomorrow.

And I never want to see another French fry again.