windy city, part iii

I do love a king-sized bed.

Joshua and I were asked if we were twins. I think it was a joke, stemming from our matching hats.

On the subway? metro? train? on our way to dinner Saturday evening, we got snagged by a thin old man who pulled us into a soliloquy on him, his life, his daughter, and how he told her to travel while she still could. He finished with, “Remember your parents – without them, you wouldn’t be here!” I couldn’t agree more.

We had the immense pleasure of dining at Yusho, the single most creative restaurant in which I’ve ever eaten. I am already counting the days/weeks/months/years before I can go back and eat more food I’ve never heard of before.

On our way to the Aviary, a super-cool, very sophisticated bar recommended by The New York Times’ excellent 36 Hours book, we stopped for coffee at the Iguana Cafe. The staff was rude and ignored us. I wouldn’t return.

The Aviary deserves a post all to itself, and I’ll cover it later on.

On the way to our final destination for the evening, Billy Sunday (another recommendation from fabulous Andrew Knowlton), we did get accosted by a man asking for some money. He was big and tall, with drool pooling in the corners of his wide lips.

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