10:25 PM >> CHICAGO: DAY 1 (or "fuck off, marta")

We arrived at the O'Hare airport at about 12:30. From there we took the subway AKA the El to the "Loop" area of town. Then we walked to the Swissotel. Half-checked in and left for lunch while they finished preparing the rooms. Ate at Miller's Pub (Me = grilled chicken sandwich [saving room for pizza later]; Mer = Cheeseburger). Returned to Swissotel and proceeded to get fucked on our room: originally we had room 2402 == sweet-A room way up with awesome view of Lake Michigan and the Chicago river. Wound up in 817 == crappy-ass handicapped room with low-ass view of construction and a lame-ass shower with no water pressure and a toilet seat that literally bit your ass.

Meredith changed clothes and we took yet another taxi (third of the day already!) to the Wicker Park area. This spot is kind of like Little 5 in that is has boutique shops and record stores and "hipsters" galore. (F-ing Lonely Planet guide book used the term "hipster" so many times I f-ing hate it now!) Mer made me shop with her == miserable (sorry, honey). I kept leaving the stores and walking halfway down the block and back so I could still be "walking around." Took the El back to the hotel.

GOD I FUCKING LOVE RIDING ON A MASS TRANSIT SYSTEM THAT ACTUALLY IS EFFICIENT AND USABLE

We showered (well, I did) and changed and straightened our hair and grabbed a cab to Giadoro's, site of the "best deep-dish pizza in the city." And let me tell you, it was damn good. I got my picture taken with the pizza. And then we tried to go catch a show at ImprovOlympic. This is the point in the trip where everything took a simultaneous turn for the amazingly better and the infinitely worse.

After walking 4 block, Mer informed me she could walk no further because her shoes were totally f-ing her feet up, which is true because they were cute little strappy Sex & the City shoes. Already peeved because we were running late and had gotten bad walking directions to the theater, I flipped out and got pissed off. We separated angrily, me to the theater and Meredith to parts unknown.

The Harolds I saw that night were great. Teams were Johnny Roast Beef and James Jackson. After the show I called Meredith. She was drunk enough to make up with me, though I was not, so we did not make out. I met her at the L&L bar with the new friends she had made: Susan, Jason, Phil, and Nathan. They were all architects from Oklahoma, but they were not scary or in a gang. Actually, they were quite friendly (oooh, foreshadowing). (Apparently they also had a friend Meredith, but she left before I got there, and a friend Brad, but he was out of town, though he is a fellow black belt.) I couldn't believe it, but they sold Absinthe at this bar! (Which reminds me, I forgot to try to buy a bottle to bring home, sorry Corporal.) We drank $2 summer lagers and some crazy shot called a "Jimmy Shake" (tastes like bubblegum stuck to licorice) as well as some Red-Headed Sluts. Susan, Jason, and us ATLiens closed the bar down at 2:30 AM and walked to Jason's apartment to drink more. Halfway there Meredith sat down in the middle of the sidewalk and applied about 50 band-aids to each of her feet. Her feet in ruins, at 4 AM I carried Mer piggyback on me back, matey, out to the street where we took a cab back to the hotel.

I passed the fuck out as Meredith ordered a tuna sandwich from room service. After calling to make sure room service was open, she had to call them back and get the dude to read her the menu over the phone because we were too drunk to find it in our room even though it was just sitting on a table.

Then there was a mini-crisis when they delivered the food and I was asleep and Meredith was too drunk to find her glasses which apparently she needed in order to sign her name on a piece of paper.

Then, of course, we overslept. Setting up CHICAGO: DAY TWO (or "my fucking head")