Before I get started on the post, I’d like to drop this unique excerpt from teh spammers:
“Hot UFO-Men have making love in you sity”
I guess gay alien sex sells…
*ahem*
We don’t really have mild days in Chicago. It went from 85 degrees to 60 degrees in the course of two days. While I prefer 60 to 85, I would have enjoyed a 70 degree day or two. Its funny that we run the air conditioner one day, and huddle for warmth at night the next. Our heat is controlled by the shop downstairs, so we don’t have much say as to when it gets turned on. On the plus side, that also means we don’t pay for the heat we DO get.
We had hoped Saturday would have been a little warmer. It was 90 last week, which was too warm, and 62 this week. We figured it wouldn’t do any good to wait yet another week, else it would be 34, knowing my luck. So we donned our jackets, and made for the Chicago Botanic Gardens.
Stepping into the Gardens is like stepping into another world. The whole place stretches for miles and is surrounded by a large brick wall. It’s easy to look across the clear lake and verdant hills and forget that you’re still in the modern world. So much that it’s surprising when a distant communications tower pokes out above the treeline. Flowers, trees, manicured bushes, and paths leading into less tame copses of trees, there’s no sound but nature. Even the other patrons are quiet, like it would break some sort of taboo to speak.
It was much better than the first time I went. I took Zai there about the same time we began dating, can’t quite remember if it was before or after, there was a long ‘grey area’ (which I’m sure is a story for another post). She wanted to go, so being the dutiful friend/boyfriend, I gassed up the truck, drove up to Chicago, and listened to Zai tell me how to get there. After two hours on the road, I knew we were lost, despite Zai’s insistance that we were ‘almost there.’ I went in to a gas station and purchased something called a ‘road map.’ I put it on the seat and asked it where the gardens were, and it didn’t respond. I thought maybe it just needed power, but couldn’t find where to plug in or where the batteries went.
I came to the dreaded conclusion that this was one of those old-fashioned, do-it-yourself navigational aids. So I opened up the map and asked Zai what town the Garden was in.
“Glencoe,” she answered. I found Glencoe, and by following the expressway on our map, and found us to be some 15 miles west of Schaumburg. In total, this put us about 25-30 miles outside of Glencoe. On top of that, I followed what SHOULD have been our route… about 20 miles. In total, to make up for the loss, we travelled about 75 miles. That’s right, doing the math, we were about 50 miles off course.
When we finally arives there, it was 100 degrees, and I am a man who does not do well in the heat. I ended up following Zai around, ducking into whatever shady alcove I could find for brief moments of respite. I took photos, and enjoyed the sights as much as I could through eyes that were stinging with sweat, but I really just wanted to be out of the sun. And it is tough to really enjoy a fountain when your only thought it, “I wonder if I’d get caught if I jumped in?”
Near the end of the day, as it began to cool down, we had dinner at the cafe. We were treated to a dry, overcooked steak, and an under done potato. By treated, I mean, paid $12 a piece for. The waitress took a picture of us at Zai’s request and I put my thumb up. Little did the waitress know it was in sarcastic salute of their crappy cuisine.
It was fun, though. Despite the heat, the drive, and the food, it was fun. It was just a lot more fun when it’s cooler, and when I take a direct path.
Afterwards, we went to Schaumburg and had dinner at Maggiano’s, one of the finest Italian restaurants this side of Chicago. My wallet was open that night, drinks, appetizer, soup, entree, and dessert. And to top it off, I got to feel big and important as I gave my keys to the valet parking guys. With a little luck, they parked my car diagonally so as to make it seem that much sportier.
Zel-kun out.
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