My favorite part of traveling regularly is learning the local “language“ of each city.
Every place has tiny nuanced differences, I’m picking up on a few of Philly’s now that I’ve been here for a few weeks. For example, everyone makes the same, very specific facial expression when they introduce themselves.
But maybe that’s just towards me. Perhaps they recognize my outsiderness.
Forunately, I happen to be pretty extroverted so finding my footing socially hasn’t been an issue. I’m settling in at a much more excellerated pace than most would, I imagine. I’m lucky to be naturally chatty and freakishly charming.
To be honest, Chicago was a slow burn for me.
I moved there barely of drinking age directly from a pretenious New York art school. Needless to say, I was not enthused about being in the midwest or living in the city coming in “second“ place. I was a kid, but me some slack.
New York and DC are so aware of their own personal branding and are constantly beating you over the head with it. You are always reminded that you are a temporary guest in their houses.
Chicago feels like home. I grew to love it’s comfort with itself. Chicago allows you to exist both with and within its grandeur without ever once coddling you. Chicago knows its great and doesn’t have to prove it to you. I’ve often said Chicago is “America’s Funny Fat Friend.“ Its livley yet lived in.
I’m fortunate to have a lot to miss.
I’ll miss living smackdab in The Loop and always catching a train just in time. I’ll miss live music at The Empty Bottle and Metro. I’ll miss making fun of people from Naperville and avoiding Wrigleyville like the plague in the summers. I’ll miss warehouse parties put together by performance art students. I’ll miss journaling in the Winter Garden. I’ll miss showing up overdressed at Emporium and screaming through full contact, (kinda kinky…) haunted houses. I’ll miss that guy who does those cute, wholesome announcements every afternoon on the red line. I’ll miss The Tamale Guy wondering in and literally saving my life with a cooler full of hot food at 2am at NEO or Beauty Bar. I’ll miss the Cupcake ATM after being taken shopping on Oak Street for the first time. I’ll miss tipsy confessionals with the closest of my close at Kaseys Tavern. I’ll miss bad dates at the Music Box Theatre and decompressing with my girlfriends at the Chicago Athletic Association afterwards. I’ll miss cocktails in the West Loop at La Josie and sharing plates with hot girls I met off of Twitter in the lobby of The Hoxton.
I’ll miss the skyline.
I’ll especially miss what I consider to be the greatest hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant on the planet. I never actually bothered to learn the name of it but my feet always remembered how to get me there. Its that one on Milwaukee Ave near Logan Theater, across the street from McDonald’s. You know the one.
Get the Biztec con Nopales and an oversized passion fruit margarita. This was my last Chicago meal before I got on the plane to leave it all behind. Very intentional of me.
Naturally, I’m being very dramatic right now because I’m wading deep in a decade+ worth of nostalgia. Of course I’ll be back, and frequently so.
They couldn’t keep me out of there if they tried.
Chicago boys can RSVP for my future triumphant returns. You’ll get the details of my visits before I put them out for the masses. Yes, even before LoveNote devotees…
Take me out for cactus tacos and frozen margs. I may not remember the name of the restaurant, but I’ll always know exactly how to get there.
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