Today, we started out with tickets to go on a Wrigley Field tour at 10 am. We got out of the hotel a lot earlier than that, thanks in part to our very smart decision to pick up some bananas and granola bars last night on the way back to the hotel. If your hotel doesn’t have a continental breakfast, and if you’re not staying in a city renowned for its great breakfast foods, I recommend keeping a few pieces of sustenance on hand. It really saves valuable morning time.
So, Cas and I set out for the Wrigley Field area, which, in fact, is called Wrigleyville. We got there pretty early, so we found a cute coffee shop and sat, looking out the window, watching the pedestrian traffic go by the ballpark. When the time came for the tour, we crossed the street just before Tom arrived. He was an older fellow, mustachioed and clad in Cubs attire, and speaking with the voice of a lifelong fan. He lives close to the ballpark, and talks about it with the reverence of a cherished church or an ancestral family estate. Heck, he sounds like he was born at the ballpark. I recorded his voice for a moment, and in spite of the lawnmowers in the background, I think you ought to click here and listen to Tom. (If that file won’t play, I’m sorry. I will convert the M4A to an MP3 when I get home- I have limited technology with me at the moment.).
Either way, Tom was pretty great. I did have to ask him about his rather large piece of jewelry. He had a World Series ring on his right hand. Apparently, lots of Chicago Cubs employees got rings when the team won the Series in 2016. He explained that the players got substantially fancier rings than the upper-echelon office staff, who, in turn, got fancier rings than he did. Nevertheless, Tom had a World Series ring. Pretty cool, right? He wears it when giving tours, but he doesn’t wear it around to do pedestrian things like run to the grocery store. I asked. You could tell that Tom was proud of the ring. It was almost as big as his hand, but hey, I don’t have one- do you?
So, after nearly two hours, Cas and I walked out of the ballpark, past Tom. When I asked if he accepted tips, he said he did, and he poured them right back into the local economy at a place right behind center field called Murphy’s. We handed him a few dollars, and we took his suggestion. I mean, if that isn’t a ringing endorsement, I don’t know what is. I guess what I am trying to tell you is that Cas and I headed over to Murphy’s after the tour to split a hamburger and have a few beers. We also decided when we were there to see if Tom was on the level. When we asked the bartenders on duty if they knew Tom who gave tours of Wrigley, they said they did. We asked what he drank, and they said Heineken. So, we decided to leave a few bucks for Tom’s first after-work Heineken. It seemed like the least we could do for a really nice man who gave us such a splash of local color.
After Wrigley, after Murphy’s, we boarded a city bus with our three day passes and headed over to Lincoln Park. When we got there, we rented some Divvy Bikes, which are apparently offered in a partnership with Lyft. No matter, they are exactly as adequate as you’d expect a rent-by-the-hour bike to be. Mine made noises every time my left foot pedaled down, and the brakes sounded like the audio clip you’d use in a slasher movie murder scene, Hey, what did I expect. It was a rental bike I picked up in one spot and deposited in another, and it was, like I said, adequate. We rode around Lincoln Park for a while, then headed over to a bike docking station when the sky started to look ominous. We docked the bikes and ducked under an awning just about three seconds before the rain started in earnest. We stood there, phones in hand, evaluating our options, when a bus arrived, What the heck, right? We got into the warm, dry bus, because, three day passes, and we plotted when to get out.
Cas picked the perfect spot. There was a bar called The River Shannon, whose street-facing signage explained that it opened in 1946. Seemed pretty recent, given that we had just been at a ballpark that opened its doors in 1914. Nevertheless, it was a pretty great neighborhood bar. The bartender was friendly to us and greeted several of the regulars by name as they arrived. It was the perfect spot to wait out the rain.
When the rain finally let up, we went to the bean. I know, I know- the bean is called Cloud Gate, but seriously, does anyone actually call it that? I mean, I guess I would call it Cloud Gate if I called Cas Caswell Joseph. Both perfectly lovely names, but that is the bean, and my guy is Cas. We don’t stand on ceremony.
We had a pretty good time taking tourist photos of the bean, then we took photos of the tourists taking photos of the bean- it was a lot of photos. Really, this all got us to about diner time. Cas had a spot all picked out for proper Chicago style deep dish pizza. Giordano’s. We ordered the smallest pizza they had, and it was still too much. It was pretty great, though. What else could you want, really? There was amazing pizza, reasonably priced wine and friendly servers with plenty of hustle. It was a great way to wrap up a very full day.
We’re back in the hotel, now, having stopped off for a few more bananas to make tomorrow morning go smoothly. I suspect Tom is back home, too, having enjoyed at least one Heineken at Murphy’s.
In honor of that, here’s a photo of me and Cas, out on the patio at Murphy’s, having a beer just as the L goes by. It’s so Chicago, isn’t it?
And, here for your enjoyment. are the rest of the photos : https://photos.app.goo.gl/2sYnZaQSheDb6sfJ6
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