My Kind of Town, Chicago Is

I just came home from a magical weekend in Chicago with my lovely girlfriends from Colorado.  We arrived from various locations: me from San Francisco, McKane from Denver, and Erin from Italy to Lyndsey’s new home in Lincoln Park.  While coming from different directions, it was like we hadn’t been apart.   And with the backdrop of Chicago, it could not have been more perfect.

The weekend was filled with; shopping both locally in Lincoln Park and along the famed Magnificent Mile; brunches every morning including hot spot Little Goat and the ladies who brunch favorite Summer House; cocktails on the roof deck where McKane Lyndsey and I managed to polish off 5 bottles of wine the first night; trendy dinners out at Untitled and Mercadito (the Mexican version of Mas Sake); and the local Architecture Tour on the river where I was able to feel somewhat more cultured while sweating buckets from the humidity and trying to cool off with a cold beer.

The best photo I could manage while holding my purse, beer and phone

But more importantly, the weekend was filled with four girls catching up on 2 months of separation during which more had happened than expected!  We could have been in San Francisco or anywhere else in the world, but Chicago suited us just fine.  And knowing how easy it was to reconnect, I can’t wait for the next reunion/trip…to Denver in September! 

Ladies Who Brunch

On a side note: while the weekend was perfect, there was one minor flaw.  After dinner Saturday night, we wanted to go dancing for McKane’s birthday so we headed over to the trendy W Hubbard street to find the best spot for four gorgeous ladies.  Noting most places were clubs with extensive lines and too many velvet ropes, I went up to a bouncer at one of the quieter spots to ask where we could find a good bar that had dancing and 80’s rock and current pop music.  To which I received the following response “I am not sure where you would find that…you might have to go (back) to the suburbs”.  Granted the “back to” was not spoken, but it was implied.  Here were four attractive women, dressed to the nines and from large cities, being told we either looked like or acted like we belong in the burbs.  It was the meanest thing someone has said to me in a while.  Shocked and hurt, we hailed a cab and headed back to the “burbs” of Lincoln Park for more wine on the roof.