Chicago was an absolute blast. Thanks to Chelsey and Mike for their hospitality, enchiladas, and tatertot hotdish. Thanks to God, who turned the weather forecast in Chi-town from brutal to beautiful overnight, and thanks to the Beer Guy at Wrigley Field, who made sure that "those kids from North Dakota" did not go without service for more than a half-inning. Random thoughts from the trip:
My Uncle Keith loves scotch almost as Ron Burgundy.
Nothing I have seen live at a sporting event tops the celebration in the 10th inning at Wrigley. Nothing.
When you get hammered in a real city, you have to have your head on a swivel, what with all the train schedules and stops and taxis and whatnot. You can't just stagger to your car and make the drunken 3 minute drive home.
I think I saw Culligan Manor from the top of the Sears Tower.
The speed limit in Wisconsin might as well be 85, cause that's what people are driving. Put a dent in my passing ratio, which was still a tidy 639-26.
After introducing Paul to his hero (and Ryder Cup captain) Tom Lehman, I now owe him nothing for the rest of our lives.
How we didn't get booted off the El train for starting a drunken 4 man (and 2 woman) Royal Rumble on the upper deck is beyond me.
Don't underestimate PGA courses. They look approximately 27 times harder in real life.
The groundscrew at Wrigley, no matter how persuasive you are, won't let you pick leaves of ivy off the outfield wall.
Road trip staples: Stevie Wonder, Meatloaf, Pepperoni Pizza Combos, crazy sunglasses. Road trip cancers: Funyuns, country music, Rachel's Bad-itude.
