Burning Down the House (Almost)
Chicago, August 2004

Chicago.  The Midwest.  August.  I knew what to expect:  90 degrees F,  90% humidity.  Sweat dripping everywhere while you bake under the searing sun.  The irony of such expectations was not lost on me as I sat shivering under dreary, rainy skies in Wrigley Field looking down upon the tarp-covered infield. 

But I'm getting ahead of myself.  I begin at the Enterprise rental car desk.  Is it me or are rental car clerks becoming more like used car salesmen?  The guy at the counter shakes my hand on my arrival and exchanges pleasantries with me.  He asks where I'll be going.  When I tell him Chicago, he urgently suggests upgrading from my reserved subcompact, explaining to me how uncomfortable I'll be in such a small car.  However, I've had subcompacts before, I know I can handle subcompacts for a four-hour drive no problem.  And I know the rental car game.  They don't have a subcompact so they try to convince you to pay for the upgrade.   If you hold out though, they have to give you the upgrade for free.  I demur on the upgrade and he asks me to wait while they prepare my vehicle. 

I had waited about 10 minutes when the guy comes over and again starts chitchatting, asking how I like living in Colorado, telling me he's never been to Colorado before and how much he'd like to go, yada yada yada.  After several minutes of this, my car still nowhere in sight, he again urges me to upgrade to at least the next level - it's only another $10 for the week.  I weigh my options - hold out talking to this guy for who knows how long or pay the $10 and get the heck out of there.  I pay the $10 and he immediately walks me out where there is a mid-size car ready and waiting for me.   So, I got taken for $10, but it was well worth it.

The next morning, I'm on my way to Chicago on the Michigan highway system.  Michigan roads have in the past been notorious for their dilapidated condition.  I used to be able to tell I had entered the state without even seeing the signs - I just waited for the sudden increase in teeth-rattling potholes.  The result of this was much smoother roads, but at the cost of nearly constant road construction.  After several "cone zone" slowdowns on my traverse west across Michigan, I finally reached the outskirts of Chicago and the Dan Ryan Expressway.  Or should I say the "Dan Ryan Under Construction Expressway".  I've driven the Dan Ryan several times over the past 20 years and each and every time it has been under construction.  It's only about 15 miles long, so I can't figure out how they haven't finished the construction yet.  Come to think of it, while there are orange cones, lane closures and other signs of construction, I don't believe I've ever actually seen any people working on it.  Perhaps it's a permanent fixture to aggravate drivers.

Despite the numerous traffic delays I made it to downtown Chicago reasonably on time and searched for a parking spot.  I know parking in a big city is expensive, but I was determined not to pay $20 just to park my car.  And I didn't.  Several hours later, the final bill came to:  $18.  I walked over to the "El" to head on up to Wrigley Field.  The "El" stands for "Elevated Train", Chicago's main public transportation system.  It basically consists of trains on elevated tracks.  So of course it made perfect sense that I had to go down two flights of stairs underground to catch the train.  I guess "elevated" is a relative term  - it's elevated relative to the gates of hell.  Actually, most of it is above ground, just the part downtown is buried.

On the train, I was surrounded by Cubs fans, decked out in Cubs hats, Cubs t-shirts, carrying Cubs pennants and Cubs scorebooks, wearing headphones listening to the Cubs pre-game.  I stood and watched them and thought:  these people really need to get a life.  I got off the train at Wrigley Field, found a reasonably priced ticket and headed into the stadium.  I discovered that the ticket was cheap because I was in the second to last row of the lower deck.  The upper deck overhang prevented a view of the scoreboard and any but the lowest of fly balls.  A pole stood in front of me, partially blocking my view of the pitcher's mound and first base.  Ahh - this is what baseball stadiums are supposed to be like!  However, there was a television above my seat that offered a perfect view.  So, I had flown 1000 miles, driven 250 miles, ridden the El 5 miles, paid $20 for parking and $30 for a ticket to watch a game on tv - something I could've done sitting at home on my couch.
View from my seat at Wrigley.
View from my seat at Wrigley - pole, overhang, and all.

Above me I noticed that the underbelly of the upperdeck above me was covered in mesh.  I recalled that a couple weeks before blocks of concrete had fallen onto the lower decks seats (fortunately not during a game); the mesh had been put up to catch any more concrete blocks that might break loose.  I pondered whether the thin roping would actually catch and stop large pieces of stone.  However, when it started raining rather heavily in the 2nd inning, I felt better.   I may get crushed by falling concrete, but at least my battered corpse would be nice and dry.  The dryness was key though because, even staying dry it was quite frigid for an August afternoon.  The gametime temperature was officially around 50 F, but with the wetness and wind, it felt much colder.  I had brought a sweatshirt and rainshell, which made things just barely bearable.  For a moment, I thought I must have been caught in some sort of time warp and it was the end of October instead of early August.  But then I realized I was at a Cubs game and they couldn't possibly be playing at the end October.  Unless they were in the World Series, and that of course is clearly a physical impossibility.

I was hoping for a quick game so I could head back downtown to eat and then get out of town and get to my sister's place in Michigan, about a 3-hour drive from Chicago, where I was staying that night.  However, it was not to be.  After a glacially slow first inning, the aforementioned rain began in the 2nd.  After a half-hour delay, the game resumed its glacial pace.  I realized that I couldn't remain for the whole game and stay on schedule.  So, I decided I would leave after the middle of the 7th inning.  This is when "Take Me Out to the Ballgame", one of the great Wrigley traditions, is sung.  It is something no visit to Wrigley should be without.  One thing that makes it more special at a Cubs game than at other games is that a celebrity, often Bill Murray, leads the crowd in the singing.  I didn't get Bill Murray, but I did get someone pretty cool:  John Mahoney.  You're probably asking yourself:  WHO?!  Some of you know may him better as Martin Crane, the dad from Frasier.  Others may know him better as the dad from Say Anything.  Still others of you may still be saying:  WHO?!  But being that Frasier was a favorite sitcom and Say Anything a favorite movie of mine, it was definitely worth staying for.  It was certainly well above the Ozzie Osborne (who did a horrid version a couple of years ago) level.

The game moves along ever so slowly until the bottom of the 6th - over three hours after the first pitch - when it begins to rain again, first lightly, then harder.  By the beginning of the 7th, it's pouring and the umps once again delay the game - one half inning before I was planning to leave.  I thought about trying to wait it out, but I decided I needed to get going.  I headed back downtown to eat dinner without having heard John Mahoney sing.

Chicago is known for many things - sports, museums, shopping, the famous movies (Blues Brothers, Ferris Bueller, Home Alone), blues bars, crooked politicians, the mafia, dead people voting.  But for me it's mainly a gastronomic adventure.  There's Chicago-style hot dogs, Italian beef, Ed Debevics (a '50s diner with a surly wait staff), the Billy Goat Tavern (made famous by John Belushi on Saturday Night Live:  "Chee-burger!  Chee-burger!"), but the prime draw is Chicago-style deep dish pizza.  There are numerous places:  Uno's, Giardelli's, etc., but the best by far in my opinion is Gino's East.  Whenever I stop in Chicago or pass through I make it a point to try to stop at Gino's.  Several years ago on a train ride from Detroit to Denver, some friends and I had a short layover in Chicago.  We sprinted from the train stationi to Gino's and got a pie and sprinted back just in time to catch the train.  I've even brought pizza back for friends in Colorado.  That's how good this pizza is. 

One minor problem I have is that I never quite remember where Gino's is located.  But it's never been a major problem because I know it's location to an approximately four-block region.  Michigan Avenue is one of Chicago's main streets and the main shopping district lies along it, right in the shadow of the towering John Hancock building.  Just south of the Hancock building lie four streets named after the other Great Lakes; from north to south they are:  Superior, Ontario, Erie, and Huron.  I knew Gino's was on one of those streets just off Michigan Avenue.  So, it was not difficult to find.  I had parked just north of Superior, so I was in prime position to grab some pizza and head out quickly.  I walked to Superior first.  Things looked very familiar.  There was even a pizza place there, but it wasn't Gino's.  I walked on.  Ontario.  Erie.  Huron.  No Gino's.  Just to be sure I kept going.  The next street was Ohio.  I know there's no Lake Ohio, but I was getting desperate.  Then Grand Street.  No Gino's.  Had I missed it?  I walked back north.  Upon reaching Superior again, after a 10 block walk, I was becoming sure that Gino's had been on Superior, where the new pizza place was.  Did they change their name?  It didn't make sense because it was so renowned - why change it?  Did they go out of business?  Impossible.

I walked into Joey Buono's, as the place is called.  In front of me was a tv, showing John Mahony singing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" - my lifelong dream was fulfilled afterall!  The server approached me.  Our conversation went something like this:

Server:  "May I help you?"
Me:  "Uh, well, was this the location of Gino's East?"
Server:  "Yes."
Me:  "What happened to it?"
Server:  "They moved."
Me:  "Oh....okay...uh...do you know where they moved?"
Server:  "Wells and Ontario, 2 blocks south and 6 blocks west."
Me:  "Oh,...uh, thanks....Bye."

Of course, I could've saved myself a lot of hassle had I just checked the Gino's East web site.  Anyway, if you have a desire to go to Gino's in the future it's on the corner of Wells and Ontario - right across the street from Ed Debevic's.  My great convenient parking spot was now rather inconvenient.  But I was determined to go to Gino's, so after a half hour walk searching for the place, I spent another half hour walking to it.  Finally I reached it.  Upon entering to get seated, I noticed that the Cubs game was still going on - now in the 8th inning.   The new place is quite nice and retains the ambience (consisting primarily of graffiti-covered walls) of the old establishment. 

However, after my visit they nearly had to look for yet another location.  I came prepared for the 45-minute wait for the pizza (greatness requires patience) and had a newspaper to read.  A few minutes after starting to read the paper I smelled smoke.  Hmm.  They're not burning my pizza I hope, I thought to myself.  Then I realized that the smoke was coming from a source very close at hand.  The candle on the table had ignited the back pages of the paper I was reading and it was quickly becoming engulfed in flames.  I tried to pat it out, but the flames had started becoming too large.  I searched in vain for some water, but nothing was near.  Finally, I completely smothered the paper and the flames went out.  Black flakes of ash flew into the air everywhere.   I quickly wiped up the ashes and tried to clear out the smoke before the waiter or other customers noticed anything out of the ordinary.

Forty-five minutes later the pizza arrived.  The game was still going on - now a tie ballgame  in the 10th inning.  I ate and paid my bill and the game was still going on - now in the top of the 11th.  I walked the 8 blocks back to my car.   I got in my car and turned on the radio; the game was still going on, now in the bottom of the 11th inning.  But, the Padres had scored a run in the top of  the 11th and the Cubs couldn't match them and shortly after getting in the car the game ended:  five and a half hours after it began.  For me, it was time once again to run the gauntlet of the late rush hour traffic and the traffic cones on the Dan Ryan Under Construction Expressway and try to get to my sister's before midnight.

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