2006-01-18 - 2:39 p.m.
Last weekend, Nya�s family came to Chicago to visit. I feel so special that I�m a part of the �us� they came to see. It was her mother, her mom�s husband, and Nya�s half-sister and -brother. I�d met them all before, but never as a full group without a bunch of other people around. I did feel at first like I really had to work to dazzle them favorably, but they put me at ease and I realized the best way to impress was just to be myself. Nya�s stepfather is a pretty shrewd business mogul and probably would have seen through any bullshit routine I put out anyway.
The first night they were here, we met them and decided we should go to dinner at the Berghoff. It�s a local institution, Chicago�s oldest restaurant, and taking unionized food service jobs with it). I was looking forward to a plate of choucroute, but when we got there, the line snaked half a block. Apparently other people had the same idea of checking out its last days. Not wanting to wait seemingly for hours, we tried to figure out somewhere else to go. Somehow, I ended up getting the role of cruise director and everyone looked to me for guidance (even though Nya�s lived here just as long and knows just as little about the city).
Uh. I suggested we go a few blocks east to the Magnificent Mile and hoped there�d be fancy restaurants there. It turns out there are fancy shops, but not really many classy restaurants. I felt like the Pied Piper, leading folks astray. Fortunately, Nya�s stepdad decided we should take cabs to Shaw�s Crab House. (Being a savvy dork, I grabbed a matchbook when we came in.) It was quite wheelchair accessible. But, as often annoyingly happens, they did try to snatch my chair away while I was getting up to transfer into it. I hate that.
I made the bad choice of getting the king crab special. This was almost impossible for me to crack open with my clumsy hands. Nya had to make a few nutcracker squeezes for me; pretty embarrassing. Furthermore, I realized in retrospect that I looked like a freespender to Nya�s mom. Even though it was a good deal for a three-course meal, she only saw the higher sticker price and it probably seemed like I was milking their generosity. Being around money (he makes quite a lot) was a refreshing change from our �public transit lifestyle�, but it�s not good for the boyfriend to look like he�s taking advantage.
After dinner, Nya and her siblings and I went looking for a bar to drink to excess in. There was a �Chicago blues club� next door, but it was attached to the restaurant we had just come from and it was just so tacky. There was a club down the street, but the British bouncer out front said it was closed for a �private par�y� (and I guess they forgot to invite us). He suggested a nearby bar, but then thought better of it, saying it had too many young lads �full of tes�os�erone�. He decided we should go a few blocks off to a place called Mother Hubbard�s.
It turned out to be sort of a sports bar with lots of big-screen TVs. There was also a precariously steep step I got out of my chair for at the front entrance. At least it was relatively inexpensive. The four of us had many drinks for under $100. Nya insisted that we all start and end with shots of Tuaca, a strong liquor that tastes sort of citrusy. I couldn�t drink down my shots straight through, stopping to cough. Pussy, I know. At least I didn�t order �ber-girly amaretto sours, which is always my secret desire, but can really only be pulled off with any pride in gay bars. (Okay fine, probably not even there.) I stuck to G & Ts.
On Friday, I asked my doorman (Doorman! Apparently, Chicagoans don�t think that�s a big deal because they�d rather live in a house with a backyard, but to a New York boy that�s living fat.) to phone a cab to my building to meet Nya�s family at Navy Pier after her work. It took over an hour for them to come. I should have just rolled myself to the corner and hailed one on the street, but I knew that the taxi would show up at my building as soon as I left. Still, I guess it was my first cab ride solo.
The Pakistani cabbie asked what was wrong with me (many foreigners do � also Mike Ditka). I told him and also about how I�d come to Chicago with Nya. He was very touched that I�d remet a girlfriend from high school. He said he was honored to meet Nya when she picked me up at the end of our ride. Her family had already sat down for dinner at the restaurant Riva and Nya had ordered for me (mahi mahi). They do fish pretty well, but Navy Pier isn�t generally the best destination for fine dining; it�s pretty touristy.
After dinner, we went to see Blue Man. Apparently, they only have theaters domestically here, New York, Boston, and Vegas (also Toronto, London, and Berlin). I saw the show a few years ago in Boston as sort of a last hurrah before I moved back to Providence after Alithea and I had our ugly breakup. But they had changed a few skits and it�s always just a lot of fun (I went to the bathroom after the show this time and found myself regaled with a piped-in tribute song: �Bathroom! Bathroom!�).
I don�t really have anything profound to say about Blue Man Group (I guess I don�t really have any deep insights in this entry, sorry). I briefly worked with a Boston Blue Man back in my film production career, but I don�t have any good stories to share. I do think it�s pretty cool that they started as street performance art in 1980s New York. I�ll just say that silent guys painted blue whacking on tubes and spraying their food is more charming than you�d expect. And they seem to be far more talented than I am at catching tossed things in their mouths. That�s artistic talent.
After the show we were all pretty blown away. Nya�s siblings came over to my place and we got some booze at the local liquor store (they�re a pretty hard-drinking crew, now that I think about it). Lexi wanted to just get vodka, but I insisted we spice things up by also getting rum! No fruity drink mix though, it was just OJ and cranberry juice as mixers. Lexi�s a bit of a drama queen and, after getting pretty soused, started bawling about some perceived slight by her parents. But she can throw whatever fits she wants at my house; how can I possibly say anything negative about my girlfriend�s sister? That�s like an iron law.
I should clarify that it�s not like I want to say anything bad about Lexi and am only being held back by social constraint. She really is very cool. Hey, when enough drinks had sufficiently prepared me, she let me wear her sparkly, pretty necklace. We gave it back to her and I hope she�ll wear it at her graduation from nursing college next year. I�m afraid I�ve had a good deal of experience with nurses. I don�t understand why some went into a profession that requires caring; they�re just like punching the clock. But the best certainly know much more than the doctors and actually give a shit, in fact give their hearts every day. Lexi is unquestionably like this.
They left at 2AM. We were all so blitzed that it was difficult to explain how to walk to the corner to catch a cab. Turn right when you leave the building. Right, left. Yes� no, right! They made it back though and we met everyone the next day for lunch downtown. Their concierge recommended a place that was closed for lunch (not exactly confidence-inspiring service), so I suggested we go to Aria. Alas, I forgot to get a matchbook. Lexi asked if there was like a matchbook bluebook listing particularly valuable ones, but I explained I just tried to get one from places I�ve eaten at. It�s getting increasingly hard as smoking bans spread.
They had a �pulled pork� sandwich on the menu, but I�m proud to say that I didn�t let myself be fooled. Real barbecue requires a smoking pit and it�s unlikely that a restaurant with one �barbecue� dish just happens to have one set up out back. You�ll likely get meat that�s merely broiled and then slathered with sugary, pretend Kansas City-style �barbecue sauce�. I got a chicken sandwich instead, which came with very tasty house-made potato chips. Nya had to go to her job after lunch and Lexi wanted the rest of us to go see Munich. Apparently it�s not playing near her. It�s so hard for me to conceive of a corner of the country that doesn�t have certain movies.
The theater was only a short distance away, but much of downtown Chicago is not at the same level. The street we had to go down had an enormous flight of stairs on it. There was an elevator in a neighboring garage (there often isn�t), but it was out of order. So I got up out of my chair, grabbed the handrail, and haltingly went down. A paraplegic or someone else unable to do this would be quite fucked. I don�t know what they could do (who would they even write an angry letter to?). Nya dragged my chair all the way down the long flight and pushed me the rest of the way when we got to the bottom.
I fell immediately asleep when we sat down (hey, I get pretty burnt out mid-afternoon and need a nap to refresh) and missed the first hour or so. I awoke to the sound of some hotel being bombed. I watched the rest of the movie, but it was pretty hard to follow. I got the feeling that it wouldn�t be much easier if I had caught the beginning. Someone shot someone and something was bombed. It just kind of went on and on, kind of like the Israeli-Palestinian conflict (maybe that was the point). Eventually, lead actor Eric Bana gets sick and tired of chasing around terrorists and quits being a secret agent. Lexi was disappointed that the lead wasn�t played by a real Israeli, but I thought Bana was pretty good anyway.
After the film, we went back to their hotel and passed out at various times. I decided to lie down on a bed for a second and woke up an hour later. People had been too polite to move me. When Nya finished work, she came over and we went to dinner at a nearby place, Saloon Steakhouse. Chicago is like the national capital of steak, yet I�d never been to a steakhouse here before (probably Nya�s renewed vegetarianism has something to do with this). Almost every member of Nya�s family separately brought me a matchbook. I didn�t really have the heart to say I�d already gotten one myself, but eventually I had to come clean.
We were all pretty tired after that, so Nya and I went home and agreed to meet for breakfast before they flew home. We came to their hotel in the morning and thought it�d be best to eat there. I�ve prattled on all this time and haven�t even mentioned what a palatial corner room with a view of Lake Michigan her family got at the Drake, probably the poshest hotel in town. It dates back to the �20s � very historical-esque-like in its classiness. The Drake Bros. Restaurant is on site of course and we ate there. I felt very healthy getting oatmeal and a fruit cup (good for the digestion, y�know).
Nya�s mom was amusingly nodding out from the sleeping pills she�d taken in the middle of the night. In fact, all of us were pretty burned out and I certainly was too tired to say much myself. But everyone seemed to like me and Nya seemed to have a good time. That�s what really counts, isn�t it?
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