My Kinda Town, Chicago

After years of near-misses I finally got to see one of my all-time favorite bands, the band that puts the "sex" in "sextet", the Venezuelan funk extravaganza known as Los Amigos Invisibles. They were playing this Friday in Chicago, and me and my special friend (whom I haven't explicitly mentioned here, but who is the primary reason for the very light posting lately).

I snuck out of work a couple hours early and we piled in the overpriced Land Yacht and made our way to the promised land.

Chicago is a lot like St. Louis, only so big as to be completely unmanageable. And try to stay off the Ryan. We were on it at 8:00 on a Friday night and it was packed bumper to bumper.

The hotel was really the highlight of the weekend. We got to the Marriot Renaissance right on the river. As we're checking in, Iulia, the surly Eastern European who was checking us in says, "For $40, we can upgrade you to the Rivera Suite". Never was $40 better spent. The place was freakin' huge. Six-seat conference table, a lounge area, gigantic bed, luxurious bathroom with separate bath and shower. I think the whole place had more square footage than my entire freakin' house.

And the views! Right outside the window was the river, the marina, and the Marina Towers, immortalized on the cover of Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, and assorted other architectural gems.

From there, we went next door to a delightful seafood place (this being a Friday during Lent) and had some delicious grub. I had the best tomatoes I'd ever had. It was like all previous tomatoes were a pitiful mockery of what tomatoes are all about. And the stir fried shrimp was unbelievable.

Caught a cab to the show at a place called Green Dolphin Street. Being that my friend is from St. Louis and environs, this was easily more Hispanic folk than she'd ever been around. Myself, I didn't mind too much. And she pointed out how relatively Hispanic I look myself.

So, I ought to get to learning Spanish, so when la revolución comes, I can blend right in. Either that, or get mistaken for one of the other guys and get lynched by a mob of angry white folk.

Anyway, the band was fantastic. Those guys seemed to be enjoying what they were doing more than I've enjoyed anything. Everyone had a big goofy grin plastered on his face. And the guitarist had this habit of singing along with his solo, which I thought was pretty cool.

If I had one complaint, it was that they played very long. Like over two hours. On the other hand, they managed to play dern near every song they'd ever written. So it's not like I could walk out saying, "Man, I wish they'd played X", because they played it all. But how can you blame them? They were just enjoying themselves so much.

I don't know how they did it. They opened with -- no kidding -- a fifty minute medley of songs. Nonstop for fifty minutes. Incredible.

Next day, we ate at Giordano's Pizza, which I take it is to Chicago-style pizza what Imo's is to St. Louis style pizza: possibly not as good as it gets but the most definative. It was very good, but I think the use of provel cheese would have done it some good.

Then, a quick trip through the Ikea store in one of the more generic suburbs of Chicago, where I finally bought cereal bowls. And thank God for that, too. I got those soup bowls, the very wide and very shallow ones that the Cub manages to spill more milk out of than otherwise.

Overall it was a sublime trip. If you happen to be living in St. Louis, have lots of money to burn, a friend with Marriot points, and a bit of good luck, I'd suggest your having seen Los Amigos Invisibles last weekend.