6/15 Shedd Aquarium – Squeaky Chairs and I’m an Uncle!

Breakfast at Nooke's

One of the attractions we missed last time we were in Chicago was the Shedd Aquarium. So this time it was on the list since we had much more time. We opted for the pass that gave us the aquarium, reptile world, dolphin show, and the Amazon experience (the Amazon river, not the online book site with wishlists). We did not watch SpongeBob or any of the other commercialized offerings or audio tours.

The entrance was an inflatable Komodo dragon.

The aquarium was a lot of fun, and one of the highlights of the trip, particularly because of something rather odd that happened. We had purchased lunch and were sitting in the cafeteria when, in between the extremely annoying squeaky chairs (see below) and a bite of my veggie wrap, a woman came up to me and said, “I know you are going to think I am crazy, but you look like our Uncle Chris, right down to the hat and glasses. Can I get your picture with my daughter?”

Apparently I was really freaking the little girl out. The real Uncle Chris would have acknowledged her, but of course I didn’t know her, which probably made it look like Uncle Chris was acting strange. So I humored them and they got their picture.

Now what’s this about squeaky chairs? Why do engineers and builders spend millions of dollars creating otherwise beautiful and functional facilities, only to overlook small details that can completely ruin a visitor’s experience? The chairs in the cafeteria had metal feet, which scraped along the floor in an unusual way, due either to the floor’s composition or to the chair’s construction, so that the result was a screech that went right through you like Yoko Ono reading Vogon poetry against a speed metal band. Put another way, it was as if small nymphs with high-pitched voices were being crushed to death all across the cafeteria every three seconds. The room acoustics only served to amplify this, as one of the walls facing the lake was mostly glass. To top it off, there appeared to be attendants whose job it was to go through the cafeteria and push the chairs in (step on the nymphs) to make it safer for people walking through the aisles.

Outside the aquarium

It was a jarring segment of an otherwise serene visit. The otters were one of the best parts. The dolphin show was a bit cheesy, but worth seeing. Some of the fish were pretty cool.

Dinner that night was supposed to be at Rico D’s in Willow Springs, an old mafia hang out that was allegedly haunted. Allan drove us there since it was out of town about 20 minutes. When we arrived inside the restaurant, Audra and I thought we were in McAdoo. It was really nothing more than a typical small town pizza shop and bar. Apparently Audra and I were not the only ones who were surprised. We learned that the place had changed hands and that the new owners had no plans to keep it the same as before, which really bummed out Jason and Allen who had acquired a liking for the place.

We ordered soft drinks, but ended up leaving in favor of other pastures because it was not at all what we were expecting or what Jason and Allen wanted us to experience. If we wanted to go to a pizza bar, we could do that just about anywhere in Central or NEPA. Why bother doing it in Chicago?

So after much ruminating on what would be the best balance of cost, location and cuisine, we decided on Bucca de Peppo, a popular Italian place in downtown Chicago. Normally I would have steered clear of such a place, but since we had already been placed in a Mafia mood, it seemed fitting to stick with that theme. Besides, we had already done the Pan-Asian thing, and we knew we’d probably have other choices on other nights. You sure can’t go hungry in Chicago, regardless of your budget.

Parking was a bit hairy, so they dropped me off so I could get a table and use the restroom (not at the same time mind you). The place was so big that immediately after coming out of the restroom, I was lost. I had become disoriented by all the photos on the wall, and all of the Frank Sinatra memorabilia. They even have a Pope room. After finding the entrance and meeting up with everyone else, we were given a brief but very cool tour of the kitchen (standard procedure for newcomers).

Everything is served family style and the portions are large. Two entrees were good enough for the four of us. Audra and I had the linguini with seafood, and we all shared a calamari appetizer with diavolo sauce (against my usual guidelines of avoiding anything with Satan in the title – I’d pay for this later). During our meal, some guy who appeared to have had a couple drinks, saw my Geek Squad t-shirt, and struck up a conversation about computers. It was completely out of the blue. Like the Uncle Chris thing, this was totally unexpected and not typical of what happens when I go out. I rarely get strangers coming up to me, and this was twice in the same trip. I gave him a card, so we’ll see if he even remembers me or visits this site.

The bread was very good, and thankfully we left room for one of the best tiramisus I’ve ever had (though it was a bit heavy on the rum). Gastro-intestinally satisfied, if a bit overstuffed, we wrapped up with leftovers and a fond memory of a night that worked out despite less than auspicious beginnings.

Jason wanted to take us to Cornelia’s, a piano bar just two blocks down from the apartment. We tried to go, but the sidewalk seating was closed, and the only seating left was in the bar near the smoke and a loud pianist (again with the loud music). So instead, Jason took us to the Side Track, a three-level bar with large statues of David strutting up from the bar. We walked right in, but the place was packed. Jason said that it gets even busier with lines around the corner. I’m guessing many of them have cochlear implants, as the music was loud here too.

We tried to find some place where we wouldn’t get trampled and just had one drink and then left. It was a nice place, don’t get me wrong, but it was just so crowded that, gay or not, it wasn’t very comfortable.

My stomach was revolting against the evening’s festivities. I didn’t sleep that much that evening, and without the usual anti-reflex bed position, I had to be careful how I slept.

Sunning herself on the coffee table.

Paris is Wi-Fi compatible.

Continued...