Time flew

Chicago was an inverted pyramid of fun.
We got to the city Friday night and promptly went out to a few bars, met up with my good friend Daniel, and wound up staying out later than I thought my sick body would allow.

The rest of the time in Chicago is now a muddled mass of outings and events. I could list off things we did, but in no particular order. We walked so much that my calves are still burning, ate so much that it was difficult to look in the mirror at my protruding belly without gagging in disgust, and drank so much that I think I've nearly killed off any bad or good bacteria lingering in the back of my throat.

We went to the zoo, the beach, the Art Institute. We saw the Bean, city bunnies, and paintings by artists that I've only studied in Art Appreciation for Non-Majors. We road the train and took cabs. We ate at a stores dedicated to chocolate and cupcakes. We packed on the pounds and then we walked some more. We stayed up late laughing at the cat and bad jokes and old people in bars and nothing at all.

And I really didn't want to leave.

I'm not an easy traveler. Traveling makes me anxious, planes make me sick, and sleeping in strange places in strange cities makes me miss the comforts of home. But this was different.

I didn't want to leave.


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