I’ve been referring to Ian as Ian-in-Japan, so Dan will be Dan-in-Chicago, even though that doesn’t rhyme. Iago-in-Chicago does rhyme, but, alas, none of my friends are named after characters from either Othello or Aladdin.

Not my friend.

Also not my friend.

We wanted Starbucks, to begin with. Dan-in-Chicago said, “There are no Starbucks in Chicago.” It was a joke, but it wasn’t a joke—every Starbucks we came across was closed.

When we did find an open Starbucks, probably the only such Starbucks in all of Chicago, the line stretched to the door. It was then that Bif realized she’d left her Starbucks gift card in the train-station locker. We went next door to Panera.

While we’d been walking in pursuit of a Starbucks I’d come across the sort of dark alley that I like to pause before and photograph. Usually nothing happens, even though Dan-in-Chicago has voted me Friend Most Likely to Die Photographing a Dark Alley, but this time, because we’d paused in the middle of the sidewalk, a man approached us and shared his local knowledge. He knew a lot about unions, it seemed, and the building across the street from us held importance for labor history. He mentioned something about garment workers, then said never mind after remembering that that garment workers had been elsewhere. He kept appearing to be through, then continuing. Then he walked slowly away while we continued to stand outside the dark alley and across the street from the building important to labor history. We didn’t want to risk catching up to him and hearing more history he’d forgotten to share.

Now back to Panera. After bagels, we walked across the street to Millennium Park.

I don’t remember the actual name of “The Bean,” nor do I feel like looking it up.

No one believes me, but I know this is a badger. We reached a compromise—it’s not a dog—but I will now use the power of my blog to reach a larger audience (of 23) and sway it to my opinion. Except “opinion” is the wrong word. This is a badger and that’s a fact.

When not broken, this fountain spits at you.

I told you decorative skulls would make a reappearance.

The park also had what looked to be a labyrinth but was not. Also, did you know that’s how you spell labyrinth? I didn’t. Anyway, I’d really wanted it to be a labyrinth because I love labyrinths, especially labyrinths with a minotaur inside. I’m using the word labyrinth a lot so that I will remember how to spell labyrinth.

Luckily, my minotaur fix was satisfied at the Picasso exhibit in the Art Institute. Minotaurs galore!

Here was also where Gertrude Stein made her reappearance. She was mentioned in the caption to a painting that she’d either bought or sat for, or both. I forgot to take a picture, or maybe I remembered, but there were too many people crowded around.
Instead, I have included the picture below. It was one of the first results for a search of “Gertrude Stein Oregon Trail.”

I’m pretty sure Gertrude Stein wasn’t even in America at the time this picture was taken.

Next, we sought the elusive “Member Lounge.” This led us through the hall of Asian art about three times, and into a glass paperweight exhibit once.

Here it is. The elusive “Member Lounge.” I drank a cup of cold water and stole two bags of fancy tea. Bif drank a cup of hot tea. Dan-in-Chicago got a free canvas tote bag.

After a quick glance through items normally found at some museum in England, we left the Art Institute and began our self-guided architecture tour.

 To be continued…