Chicago was failed planning, and thus subsequent testing of my adaptability. I passed, but not without a few pinholes in my psyche. Chicago sometimes made me question my desire to travel. Chicago was awkward networking with persons interested in alternative media and, hopefully, the quality indexing of such media. Goose Island Harvest Ale failed to lubricate the pipes much, but it sure tasted good. Chicago was actually full of many moments of awkward social interaction or lack thereof, thus proving once again that I usually think too much and speak too little. Chicago was gray, except when it was occasionally sunny. Chicago was the Harold Washington Library, nice but not what I expected. Chicago was a man complaining loudly on the El about delays: “Every time it’s apologies. We don’t want your apologies!” I wish you could’ve heard the inflection in his voice. It was impressive. Chicago was me stuffing my face at the Chicago Diner and then washing it down with a vegan milkshake. Chicago was walking along Lake Michigan. Chicago was the humidity of primeval ferns. Chicago involved a lot of walking, and some use of public transportation. Chicago made me wish I had my bike with me. Chicago meant finally making it to Quimby’s. Chicago was a cup of good green tea. Chicago was a board meeting. Chicago was this bakery. Chicago was spending time with old zine friends and their amazing son. Chicago was a Viking warrior on the Red Line. Chicago was way too big to see much of in two days. But it made me want to go back.

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