Greetings from Chi-town

Good evening from the windy city. The time to blog is upon me which is sensible seeing as how I have approximately a pound of dead cow in my stomach and I'm not much use for anything else at the moment. I didn't start my day this way, and I'm happy to tell you how my current state came to pass - well, will eventually pass but I'm using a phrase.

I'm up here for no particularly fancy reason. It's work related. My company sent me for a two day training class on a product we recently purchased. The quality of instruction has me pleasantly surprised. Generally, two day training means a rush job through the product fraught with sales pitches. I'm tickled to report I've received cogent information from day one. I don't think it's a coincidence this product is really good as well. Good follows good and a company that produces worthwhile software will likely have good people explaining how to use it I suppose.

I drove up last night with a co-worker who I'll call papa sweet grump. He's a nice older gentleman - recently a grandfather - pretty cool in just about every way, but he's a nay sayer - a trait he pulls off fairly well. He and I hit a Bennigan's on the way up (they still exist!) and made it to our hotel a little after nine pm. Thankfully PSG stepped away while I was checking in since the desk clerk asked if he had his own registration or if he was staying with me. I calmly stated he had his own, but I was surprised that it was a question. The picture the two of us pose is incongruous at best; thirty-year-old woman with spiked hair who reportedly looks like a complete lesbian and a mountainous white haired man in Dockers. What surprised me more: that he thought we were together or that he thought I was straight? I'm unsure. I suppose people make platonic shared hotel arrangements all the time and it was simply be a question.

I spent some time walking up and down Michigan after checking in. I heard a volley of When Johnny Comes Marching Home passed back and forth from street side sax players punching the march into a slurry yet punctuated jazz number. I walked quickly and saw the river. I ended up going to Borders and buying a book and a three-pack of Moleskine journals. I say yes to Moleskine. They make a quality product although the marketing turns me off just a hair. Buy this notebook because creative people did nearly a hundred years ago. But the paper, smart binding, and excellent size are exceptional. I know of no better pocket journal.

Today, PSG and I walked to our training facility from our hotel, mostly along Wacker, a street name which illicits the same response that I first had from it at ten. We ended up spitting distance from the Sears Tower, pictured at top. I like skyscrapers. People say they're phallic, and I did too until I heard the best counter to it from a good friend of mine. He says, yeah, but if you enter the skyscraper and look up it's like an enormous vagina. I'm down with that. The building our training is in is also a skyscraper, and for the first time I've been confronted with a restroom that's controlled by a five button keypad. This is on the fourth floor of the building. What kind of crowd control does one need? The restroom is also exceptionally grey. Since I was wearing my grey fleece jacket today I had to take pictures. Which now that I review them are kinda lame. Moving on.

So how did I end up with this bovine bounty in my tummy? The one good thing about traveling for the company is being able to treat oneself on someone else's dime. I like to eat that which I cannot in Nap-town. I asked the concierge what our best bet was for authentic Chicago cuisine and
he said without batting an eye it was the Chop House. It was within walking distance to our hotel which was a major selling point. I know you can get a great steak for that kind of money in any city with an international airport, but this place had style and panache and an incredibly intense bone in prime rib so popular it's the every night special. We were seated on the second floor in a window table overlooking Ontario. There were pictures of meat packers and "Builders of Chicago" on the wood paneled walls. After a wonderful filet with asparagus and hollandaise I made a point to go to the bathroom partially to take a look at the place and - I'm not gonna lie - a little bill dodging. I didn't want to deal with the expense report. When I arrived at the bathroom and entered a stall I was exposed to something unique - thank goodness. Nothing sexual - no. This was the strangest sanitary device I've ever encountered. I was so floored I took a picture. Let's take a look:

OK. My complimentary internet connectivity is acting funny and giving me fits. I'll have to be content describing this for now. I open the stall door and see a toilet seat covered in a plastic bag. The hinge is enormous and I'm thinking this is some sort of take on the paper seat covers. I'm not much for the hysterics of bathroom hygiene. An old school toilet seat just isn't the kind of place that can support bacteria, germs or whatever else has women hovering and pissing all over a perfectly good resting place. If I had open wounds on my ass cheeks that might be a different story, but as long as my butt remains lesion free I'm just not giving these concerns any cycles. The baggied toilet seat isn't just a simple cover. Oh no. The hinge that holds the seat to the commode is enormous, about four inches high, and it comes with a red button on the left and instructions. "Press once before use. Button resets after in 20 seconds." So, completely floored I push the button. This is what happened:

Now this is just about the craziest, nastiest, saddest thing I've seen in a bathroom. It's like those terribly unhygienic towel rolls one only sees at Illusions as reported by Fitness Nerd only for your ass! Really? For real? Is this what people want? For the first time ever I really didn't want to sit down. That plastic just looks flimsy and full of creases and crevices where nastiness could hide. Ugh.

That wraps it up for tonight (hah!) I'm going to roll quite literally into bed and get ready for day two of my whirlwind Chicago trip. I'll be heading back to Indy tomorrow during rush hour. We'll see how that goes.