That’s why they call it The Drizzly City

Yup.  We’re still in Chicago.

The weather has caused a Looper clog in the funnel through which we all enter the river system.  No offense to Joliet, but we decided to wait here until things clear up rather than sit on the wall there for several days.  After all, we’re in a pretty sweet spot.  Walking distance to most everything we might want.

While in The Dangerous City, one is required to do touristy things.  That meant a boat tour—which we took on the one hot and muggy day—not because we’re desperate to ride on a boat, but because we wanted to check out the path through town.  On the way we literally had to dodge sparks from a dude cutting steel on a bridge above the path.

Surely that violates whatever hot-work requirements apply in Chicago.  Or maybe the dude’s uncle is an alderman or otherwise is “connected” such that he doesn’t care.  Anyway, we made it to the tour boat.

Hopefully we’ll get a time-lapse video when Misty Pearl takes the trip.

The rain returned later that evening, while we were eating dinner a mile from the marina.  The artistic eye will note our unintended but visually-stunning color coordination.

And of course the city lights in the mist.

Another day brought another downpour, which was a chance to change the oil.  Along with the oil change came Chicago CSI.

Okay those probably were unrelated, but CSI—the real thing not the TV show—did block off the end of the dock.

Unfortunately the dive team staged inside a tent so as to keep nosy and bothersome people away.  We were a bit offended, of course, since all we wanted to do was poke around and ask some questions.  The rumor on A Dock was that the search related to a missing girl, but we were gone when they wrapped up and left so we really don’t know anything.  One unconcerned local summed it all up as “It’s Chicago.”  Maybe that’s why they call it The Murder City.

We scored day-of-show tickets to Hamilton, which (1) was an unexpected turn of events and (2) required us to break out our best Sunday-go-to-meetin’ clothes.  Meaning jeans.  Hey, we live on a boat.  So after deep dish pizza, we hit the CIBC Theatre (“Theatre” being the way snobby people spell “theater”) with Brent and Karen.

The play was entertaining enough, but a bit fast and loose with historical accuracy.  For one thing, we doubt there was as much rapping during the late 1700s.  The founding fathers also probably didn’t dance around non-stop.

This morning we awoke to more light rain.  Since we were in the hood, however, we took the boyz over to the Shedd Aquarium and then back along the scenic route.

The Columbia Yacht Club clubhouse is just down the way from us.  That wouldn’t be at all interesting except the clubhouse is a ship, which is different and cool.

The Abegweit was an ice-breaking ferry before the yacht club converted her into a playroom for Chicago’s hoity-toity boaters.  The kind of people who probably wouldn’t be comfortable in a plain old “theater.”  If we had better clothes maybe we’d try to sneak in.

Saturday and Sunday look to be good days for watching football.  Surely there’s a sports bar around here somewhere.