My home vacation turned into a semi-real vacation this week. We made a quick little jaunt down to Chicago. It was actually far too quick; just drive down one day, stay one full day, drive back the next. Still, it was fun.
The highlight was the trip to the Museum of Science & Industry. This is one of the only museums that holds a special place in my heart, thanks to annual trips back when I was young and my grandparents lived in Chicago. It's still very much the same as it was then...they seem to just add things on rather than take things away.
Our trip happened to coincide with the Dr. Seuss exhibit. The exhibit would have actually made more sense in an art museum, seeing as it centered on his life and work as an artist and writer, but I am not one to argue with any exhibit featuring Dr. Seuss. (Plus, I think maybe the blatant advertising for Seuss Landing at Universal Studios Orlando might have been the "industry" part.) It's always fun to get a look into the life of someone who found success doing something they would have been compelled to do even if no one had paid them. Very inspiring.
A lowlight of the trip was our attempt to eat at Frontera Grill. Due to the uncharacteristically haphazard way in which this trip was thrown together, I missed my chance to make reservations (they take a few, but mostly it's all first-come, first-served), so I figured we'd go early and chance it. Seeing as it was a Wednesday night, I figured we had a shot. I was wrong, of course. People must line up before they open just for a chance to eat that amazing ceviche...we got there 45 minutes after they opened and there was a 2 1/2 hour wait for a table. Sigh. (I would have considered waiting had there been room in the bar, but no.)
Seeing as we'd just paraded the boys a mile through downtown on foot to get there, we had to find another place to eat. This brought us to Maggiano's. I usually avoid chains when on vacation if possible, but seeing as we no longer have Maggiano's here in Minneapolis, I figured it was sort of like eating somewhere we couldn't eat at home. Most importantly, I knew the kids would eat it.
We got seated within 10 minutes at a half-moon booth (my favorite). There was a piano player regaling us with Piano Man and Rocket Man right in a row. And I was feeling proud of myself for ordering the chicken marsala rather than my beloved fettuccine alfredo, which is so damn good that I usually try to convince myself that this time those 3 pounds of butter and cream won't make me sick (I am almost always wrong). All was well.
And then the food came.
Everyone else's was fine, but when I cut into my chicken, it was shiny and pink. I kept my vomit inside and alerted the waitress, who gave me a look that said "Not again!" She also immediately said she'd send the manager over. The manager didn't show, but I did get a new plate of chicken. I sawed off a corner, inspected it's opaqueness, and began eating. I was three bites in when I decided to cut into the center again (I don't know why I didn't do this first, I think I was just hungry)...this time it wasn't just pink, but there was a lovely blood vessel in it. Yummy.
I flagged the waitress down again, showed her the meat, and said, "Now I'm too worried to eat any chicken," to which she replied, "I'm worried for you." Well, great.
In the end, I didn't eat, but I also didn't vomit. Plus, I got free wine for my troubles. No, I won't ever eat there again, but hey, at least no one was killed...namely, me.
And after all that excitement, it was time for bed and then up in the morning to drive home. So yeah, I've had better trips to Chicago. But, it was nice to have some uninterrupted time with all four of us. I think we'll go back in the summer. And I'll make all the proper reservations...in fact, maybe I should start planning now.
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