Motorhead is the new black
Always good to get out of town for the weekend, especially when it’s to one of our two favorite, four-hour getaways. We’ll take a weekend in Chicago or Toronto any day(s), but when Parker and Tracy, months ago, suggested we come in for the weekend and stay with them in their spacious and lovely pad in Chicago’s Lakeview neighborhood, we couldn’t resist.
We came for the company and camaraderie, first and foremost. Everything else seemed to be a bonus. And by “everything else,” I mean the moderate temperatures, the great food and the boozing it up on Saturday. That, and the collectively feel-good vibe that comes from such a world-class city. Chicago’s pretty cool, if you ask me. Kerry lived there for about six years and has maintained a class network of friends (some of whom might as well be family, namely our hosts). Now her friends are “our friends” and I can’t help but feel like I’m on the winning end of that deal. Parker’s just a straight-up, cool motherfucker. I mean, I don’t know how else to say it. It can be hard, when you date and fall in love with someone and she has behind her a legion of really good friends. And it’s not that they were all standing there with their arms crossed, giving to me the shit-eye, waiting to assess and grade me. It wasn’t like that at all. But, there is a level of respect to be attained by the new boyfriend, I’ve always felt, if he’s worth anything. Her family is one thing, but her friends have really welcomed me with a legitimacy and sincerity I’ve long appreciated.
Kerry and Parker have been tight going back to the teen years. And since she and I have dated over two-plus years, I’ve been around the guy two or three times, each of them briefly, which kind of left both he and I champing at the bit a little. I think he knew she and I are right for each other, but I long felt an obligation to give him a chance to size me up and make his own inference on my character. And just so you know, I don’t often go around putting myself out there for people to judge, laying my shit out there for others to assess and/or approve. Fuck that. But when you’re dealing with decades of friendship and respect, and you’re coming in on the boyfriend tip, I felt I owed it to Kerry and to the people with whom she holds dear that I stand before them (so to speak) and let them know, through actions and humor, that my presence is not only legit, but here for the long haul.
She’s always spoke rather glowingly of her friend, so I knew we’d get along — a couple of music heads and sports fans, like-minded humorists and purveyors of sarcasm. And while I’d considered him a friend before this weekend — a friend I’d never spent a whole lot of time around — I certainly feel moreso afterward.
And in addition to Parker, and his very cool, very charismatic wife Tracy, I made even more friends this weekend. Mike and Laura are two right-on, fucking totally cool and really funny people. Ever met a friend of friend, out on the night for some drinks and fun, and seemingly hit it off? You wake up the next day and think “wow, they were really cool. I like them.” That’s kind of how this weekend felt, but on steroids.
Like I said, it’s always fun for us in Chicago, but rarely, upon return, do I feel all the better for going. Usually it’s just a good time. This weekend, however, had a little extra mustard on it.
We got in Friday afternoon, parked and went straight to the Palmer House. One of Kerry’s donors passed away last week. She moved to cancel the weekend trip in order to attend the memorial. The deceased’s daughter said nonsense, if you want to pay your respect, toast her good name at one of her favorite places, the Palmer House in Chicago. And so we did.
Of course, it wasn't too long before I was reminded of what transpired weeks ago. Sigh.
We met Parker at his office, where he had the VIP greeting awaiting us. This, we found rather hilarious.
Parker showed us around their office, including his own, where he rocks the proverbial mic for Esquire. Nice digs, dude. We picked up Tracy, had dinner and caught a movie, albeit a rather slow movie, and then headed back home to chill and crash.
We got up Saturday, had some breakfast at their place, watched some Game Day and then headed to Duffy's for the Michigan game. Parker pointed out to me that there are bars all over the city that are home to certain college teams. There are Michigan bars, MSU bars, Penn State bars, etc. These establishments carry the game exclusively that day and cater to fans of said school. This place was insanely packed, mascot included.
So, we headed a few blocks back to Avenue for bloody Marys and some serious chow. There I met Mike and Laura, and Liam, and Dave and Kathleen, who was about an hour away from giving birth. All of them, totally righteous, fucking down-to-earth people. It was like being around my own good friends when my own good friends aren't around, if you know what I mean.
We kicked it at Avenue, got a little swiggy and, despite the close contest, still enjoyed the game. Mike let everyone know, outside of the bar, his feelings on the victory. Note the airborne-ness.
We split up and decided to explore the city just a little bit. What Kerry and I did end up exploring were more bars. We walked around a bit. I found this method of air conditioning stabilization right up my duct-tape and Super Glue alley.
We then found some bar called the Dram, which was perfectly divey, but seemed to be home to some older queen types, so we skinnied out of there after a quick round.
We walked a little more, all with the intent to get to the L & L, one of our favorite bars. We had quite a time during our last visit there and it's now become a must-visit from here on out. In front of the place, Kerry made friends with a chocolate Lab named Art.
We got back to Parker and Tracy's and tried to nap, but I wasn't so tried. I loafed on the coach, with Parker on the couch opposite me, for the end of the Tennessee-LSU game, before we got cleaned up and went to Piece for dinner. Now, that is some good pizza.
for a birthday party of a friend of Tracy's. We'd talk music, drink some beers and otherwise goof off for a few hours before pooping out and heading home. At Floyd's, Mike coined the phrase of the weekend. "Motorhead is the new black." I don't know, it seemed hilarious at the time.
Getting up and leaving Sunday was hard. We had such a great time. Weekends like that are seemingly rare, well-earned but rare. Seeing friends, making friends and doing what you like. Not bad.
Comments
Is candied carrots some sort of euphemism?