1 post tagged “chicago”

So it had been a while since I'd last seen the Windy City. Whenever the thought of going to Chicago enters my mind, a few ideas immediately begin to brew: namely, how I'm going to manage eating at all my favorite restaurants they have there all in the short time allotted. At one time I had several friends up there, as well, and it always proved impossible to do everything I wanted, so learning to sacrifice one good for another was a necessary lesson. This time with Erin, however, I had much less of an agenda. First of all, we were going up there for a wedding of two of her friends, and to visit a city she herself called Home for nearly a year of her life. Hence, she had a few of her own favorites she wanted to show me. I still made it clear I was intent on eating at the House of Sushi, where one can eat as much sushi as one pleases for the reasonable price of $13. I was also dead-set on going to Giordano's, which has been the source of many a belly-ache afterwards, and this time was no exception. And since we were going up there for mainly her purposes, I had the luxury of riding passenger the whole time, though I think I offered to drive once in a while. We left sometime after she got off work, and arrived sometime after dark. Here are some pics of the drive up.
The bride-to-be, Christina, was gracious to let us stay at her place the nights before the wedding. She was staying at her parents, prepping for the big day, so that gave erin a vacant bed to sleep in and a couch in the living room for me. The apartment was pretty nice, with a nice white shag rug that was practically as good for sleeping as was the sofa. However, the complex hallway reminded me of something out of maybe Brazil.  

Erin and I rode our bikes (which we had hauled up to Chicago) around the city, and she took me to a few of her favorite spots. One of those was a park, where I saw a dragon caught in the limbs of a tree. It seemed perturbed at being caught (understandably), and by the time I found it, it was trembling furiously with a high-pitched moan. Have a look and listen:
 
After rolling and strolling through the park a bit more, Erin and I visited some old friends of hers who lived nearby. We chatted a while and caught up (I sort of just played with the infant Erin's friend had), and then headed back to the apartment, where we rested a while.




I didn't take too many pictures our second day. I think my battery was running low and I hoped to take a few good ones at the ceremony. I'm glad I held off, too, as the wedding was simply beautiful, held in an old presbyterian church where the sunlight shone directly upon the bride and groom as they stood facing each other. The whole wedding party seemed plucked from heaven, and the pastor conducting the procession could hardly bear it all. He nearly broke down crying a couple different times. The sanctuary itself made me a think a lot about what how much I've been drawn to the Old Traditions lately, particularly in terms of liturgy and architecture. There is a great deal of good that comes from simple architecture, bare rooms in which it's just you, a small group of people, a guitar and your devotion to Jesus, and that's mainly the way I preferred things for many years. But lately -- perhaps in light of my own spiritual difficulties -- I've been drawn much more to holy processions and architecture, music and otherwise that puts you smack in the mindset that something Else is happening here, something holy and so one's mind and heart, one's response, must be shaped by the shapes and sounds and words elucidating God's glory all around. Have a look for yourself:

After the wedding we hopped over to an art opening a friend of Erin's was having. It took us a while to find it, because the "gallery" was really an old abandoned dollar store which was being rented out to anyone who'd utilize the space. I guess it saves on renovation costs that way. Most of the art was downright ridiculous, but by chance I ran into a very old friend of mine own, who had recently moved to chicago and was now also friends with the artist friend of Erin's.
Next came the reception, which was being hosted somewhere far out of the city at a place called the Armory. The traffic getting there was ridiculous. I think the Armory was only 20 miles out, but with the traffic, it took us over an hour. The car party was comprised of Erin and me, and then two friends of Christina's (the bride), who were in from Boston and without a car. The gent of this duo was quite a card, and had a pretty massive theory on what Anton Chigurh symbolized in No Country, which kept us intrigued for most of the trip.
Upon arriving at the armory, Erin and I got more of a taste of what beautiful weddings can actually entail. The "Armory" was really some kind of children's boarding school, rented out for the night, and was the picture of regality. The marble columns and hardwood floors within the building opened out onto a stone terrace, and then a well-manicured lawn and finally a giant fountain in the distance. I think everyone enjoying feeling as if they were part of the social elite for a night.
 















Once twilight fell, the party gradually filed back inside for lots of eating, and subsequent dancing. The meal itself was exquisite. A few weeks previous to the big day, we had been asked what we would want to eat. Our options were between fish, beef, and chicken (I think), and thinking you could never beat fish, that is what I picked. Only I was wrong. Erin had the beef and it was succulent, while my fish (salmon), while very good, paled in comparison. But that was only the main course. There were the first two of three courses, and then the desert, naturally. I don't know how many times in my life I've actually had a several-course meal. I felt very fancy while dining, but it still struck me kind of odd. I think, given we in our culture do not eat multi-course meals generally, have by no means cultivated our tummies for such a culinary experience -- we're used to shoving everything in all at once, basically -- and so it was with my own tummy. I was pretty much full by the time the actual main course came, and needless to say, there was no room for desert, though I pounded it all the same.
Then came the dancing, socializing, and smoking of cigars. I was outside with a few of the other gents, and they actually persuaded me to hold one of the cigars in my hand. I even tried to light it and puff on it. I was unsuccessful however, and thereby maintained my life-long record of having never smoked at all, looking in general like a fool for trying. Night had fallen and the lawn was sparsely lit, which made for romantic strolling down the path toward the fountain and back. Erin was dead-set on a little booty-dancing with her friends, so I kept to the boys for a while outside, and listened to them talk about all the 150 new bands they'd learned of that week.