Hello All!

I’m leaving on a short vacation to Chi-town and decided to clean up a few premature blog ideas sitting on my desk.

It’s been nearly 30 years since the last time I visited Chicago. I was young and stupid and got talked into driving down with a car-full of buddies who assured me they “knew their way around” the big city.

I can still remember that night. Somewhere on the John Nolan Expressway, my passengers all went silent. No one had a clue where we were. They never did. Driving to a party in Chicago just seemed like a good idea. Every time I asked for directions, they just laughed and stared at me with their glazed-donut eyes.

“Okay, guys,” I shouted, “no more attitude adjustment stops until we get there!” Eventually, I maneuvered my 1966 Buick Wildcat off the expressway and into a part of town down by the docks that wasn’t so nice. Even the wharf rats knew to stay out of sight.

There was a group of pleasant-looking fellows milling around the corner by the stop sign. I pulled up and rolled down my window, but before I could ask for directions to Cicero, someone from the crowd screamed, “Let's kill these honkies.” Actually, they didn’t use the word honky, it was something much worse.

My buddies got a little more helpful after I punched the gas and took the corner on two tires. I ran the next two stop lights and drove up the exit ramp onto the expressway. I figured if we were going to die that night, we might as well go out in a blaze of glory driving a 66 Wildcat. I haven’t had the desire to return since.

This trip should be different however. I’ve decided to leave the driving to a professional and will take the train. No airports, no power-hungry TSAs, no metal detectors and passengers looking to ruin my day. My wife is going to pack me a travel bag with several magazines, a thermos of Margaritas and the address of our hotel written on the back of a $10 dollar bill. Now that’s my kind of traveling.

Being a foodie, I’ve been diligently searching the Internet for restaurant suggestions the past month. I’ve narrowed my choices down to 32 different restaurants with cuisines ranging from “Blues and BBQ,” Thai, Mexican, Italian, German and Mike Ditka’s Steak House where the coach proclaims HIS food to be BIG, BOLD and BEAUTIFUL.

I’m not sure how I’m going to squeeze a visit to all 32 in three days, but I’ll blog about my gastronomical adventures when I return and let you know how I fared.

On another note, the Fall pledge drive at WXPR concluded last week. For you “newbies,” WXPR is where I hang out when not in the blogging mood. WXPR is an independent, community public radio station that raises the money necessary to stay on the air from the generosity of all our listeners.

Moods were a little stressed last month when the economy came crashing down just a week before we began our pledge drive. But you folks did not let us down. In fact, WXPR had a record fall pledge drive. The best in our 25-year history. We are humbled and determined to make sure you never get a bad show whenever you tune it.

I almost forgot to mention my September trip out to the City by the Bay: San Francisco. A city dominated by street performers. Every block had someone novel trying to make a buck: there were the “silver men” in trench coats, and “Robot man,” “Stilt man” and “Tree woman” working the crowds for “Change.”

One of my favorite street performers was a scruffy young man who would hide behind a garbage can on a busy street in Fisherman’s Wharf. He would jump out and scare unsuspecting tourists, and then shout: “These thrills will cost you some dollar bills!”

My other favorite skipped the formalities and got right down to business. The sign on his money cup was poignant:

“Who am I kidding, this is for beer and hookers.”

Next week is Thanksgiving and I’ve got a wonderful story to share when I return. I call it, “How the Turkey got his toupee.”

Until then, I’ll remain,
Red Beans and Ricely Yours,
Jeff