We got into Chicago at three a.m after twenty straight hours of driving. Our friend Jordan came to let us into his apartment on the North shore of Lake Michigan. I’ve known Jordan since the first day of college, back when he had a perfect bowl cut and I stayed up until dawn finishing all my homework. Times have changed. As a last minute surprise Mary Beth, my best friend from college, bought an impromptu plane ticket from New York to come out and stay also.
The four musketeers were together again. Like usual Jordan spent a vast majority of the time grumbling, reprimanding Sebastian and I for using his “display towels,” and watching football. When MB got here we slowly cajoled him out of his work-induced bad mood. The four of us went out to hear some blues (or B.L.U.E.S), made dinner, ate gourmet hotdogs, ran around Millennium Park and down the lake shore walkway on a beautiful Sunday day. On MB’s last day we paid more than we could afford to go to the art museum and see “American Gothic,” “Nighthawks” and a scary contemporary piece in which an entire room was covered in videos of clowns screaming and taking shits.
What I’ll remember of Chicago, though, won’t be what we saw (please god let me never wander into another terrifying clown installation) but who we were with. I won’t forget teasing Jordan about his display towels or Sebastian slurring at us in the morning (after he had stayed up until five watching T.V ) “canwehaveSILENCE?” I think the four of us have been feeling a bit lonely out in the big ‘ol world lately and being together this past weekend has been truly wonderful—even if I did have to watch 48 hours of football.
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