Garlic, Chocolate and Heaven
2005-11-08, 14:57

Edited version. Reminder: edit before emailing post.

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All in all, my extended week-end was probably the best I've had since moving to Kentucky. Maybe, I've changed my definition of 'complete' or 'fun-filled' from one of active sports and playing hard to something entirely different. "Seeing someone", note the term "dating" is still not applicable, helps because I think my attention is now focused upon someone else other than immediately family or myself. Any rate, the typical Friday night venture began after a four mile run by rewarding myself with a beer(s) with co-worker/drinking buddy where we hit the usual spots but things turned a bit blurry as I bailed on my strict diet to lower weight and cholesterol. Christ, whatever happened to the good old days in your twenties when cholesterol was a concern for 'old people' but now that my late thirties are waning, I'm sure there will be a whole slew of new ailments coming my way next year! A long story short, I drove to the place I despise, McDonald's, and ordered a Big Mac meal with a diet coke. Oh! That was not good enough because this is my self-indulgent week-end. Next stop, White Castles for six mini cheeseburgers.

Around mid-night, I sat upon the carpeted floor with a black and white, drooling dog to either side of me, inhaling a Big Mac and little steamed cheeseburgers. Guilt finally caught-up to me as in one night of self-indulgent behavior, I was quickly destroying what I strived to achieve -- "to be fucking hot". In hind sight, make that destroyed over three days. So, drunken logic followed that for every bite I took, I had to give each of my dogs a bite as well! My dogs and I would spread the fat amongst us and grow fat together! The next morning, I vaguely recalled this logic as I saw shredded paper boxes throughout the house and recalling my late night stops.

At 7:55 a.m. as instructed, I appeared hung-over at my brother's house for the ride to the paintball fields for a little game of combat. My nephew, around 13 or 14, is at the age where "war" is glamorous, mainly because, the video games he plays teaches that death is just a matter of 're-spawning'.

My brother's garage is a thirteen year old's wet dream because it is filled with army fatigues that he lends to my nephew's friends; paintball guns; car parts; stereo and various remote control airplanes which have evolved from meticulously built scaled models from when he was fourteen years old to quite the opposite of flying junk consisting of pieces of metal, such a bookshelf rod with wings and servos attached. Aloud I spoke of the history to one of the kids.

"Wow! Mr. XXX must be the most intelligent man alive! He has guns, model airplanes, cars and flies jets."

Stunned. Never in my life would I thought I would ever hear someone speak about my brother that way as he nearly failed out of high school, but to his credit, he kicked ass in aviation college. This kid was quite a character and easily impressed because later on during our paintball scenario matches, where I happened to be a killing machine (probably out of variety frustrations and stress release), he was awestruck with my prowess and asked, "May I call you, 'Uncle Bob', too?"

I suppose so. Thinking this is an odd request because I don't have kids but moreso because my my nieces and nephews call me Uncle, a formal and adult-like-a title reserved for someone other than me.

As a post war-game event, my brother likes to stop at McDonalds to feed the squadron. After my late night feeding frenzy, this was the last place I wanted to stop for lunch. I thought my big eyes and stomach could not be surpassed until I met David, a thirteen year old who sprung a foot in height in only six weeks time. This kid ordered an Extra Value Big Mac includes extra large fries and an extra large drink), two McFrosties, two cheeseburgers, two apple pies,a McChicken sandwich and a medium fries. My hat is off to you. Most likely, he will be the first thirteen year-old with high blood pressure and a coronary.

Approximately, four weeks ago I told the Desired Girl to pencil-in November 6th for a date and I was working on something special. Over the four weeks, I wouldn't let on to what I had planned and placed a few misleading ideas into her head just to throw her off track. She is, rather claims to have been, one who likes to peek at presents before a birthday or Christmas, however is now reformed. With this tidbit, I proceeded to bait her curiosity. I inquired as to if she had any phobias of: heights, large body of water, crowds, food allergies or criminal history, easily sunburned, amd doesn't mind close quarters, etc.

Arriving at her home at 7:45 a.m., I told her to dress in comfortable walking shoes and urban contemporary clothes with a possibility of rain showers.

"You're not going to tell me?"

"Nope."

"Come on, it's November 6th! How do I know whether or not if I'm dressed appropriately?"

"Urban contemporary with comfortable walking shoes. If you feel how you are dressed is appropriate then you are. Do you like crowds and football?" I asked full-well knowing she despises football. "Did you know Cleveland and Nashville are playing today?"

"No." Disappointment was trying to be hidden.

"Sorry about the towels on the seat but I couldn't tell if the windows on the car were up last night when the storm passed. My dog woke me at 4:30 with whimpers and the only way to stop him was to sleep on the basement's concrete floor with him. As soon as I saw the dashboard full of leaves, I knew I was in trouble. The slug on the gear shift almost scared the crap out of me. Man, am I tired! Do you swim at all?"

Driving on the highway, she deduced we weren't heading to Cincinnati, nor Indianapolis because of process of elimination of the off ramps. Heading south on I-65, only Nashville or Memphis remained which then elicited, "Are we going to the football game? How long are we going to be traveling?" She trying to deduce the destination by hours of drive time.

"I hope you don't mind it may be awhile before we get to where we're going. I don't know how long it will take since I've never taken this route before."

"I don't mind the drive."

Two minutes later, I take the exit ramp leading to the airport which caused her to point this fact out to me, "This is the road to the airport."

"Yes."

Her eyes grew wide and wider revealing the gears in her head making the connection. "Are we going on a plane?"

"Maybe."

She breaks out in nervous laughter. "Nobody has done this before! Nobody. Are we going on a plane? Really?"

"We'll see."

She further laughs and looks at me with even bigger eyes.

"I was excited before but now...I'm really excited! How did you do this? I mean it was three weeks ago. What if I didn't want to go or go out with you?"

"I always have a Plan B or Plan C."

"Where are we going?"

"I'm going to wait until the gate to tell you," all the while hoping the first line of security doesn't ask her where her destination is. If she doesn't know, what would they do to her?

After parking the car and riding the escalator up to the security level, I broke into a conversation about how I asked my mother to feed my dogs while I was gone for the day. You see, I hadn't told my mom either because she just gets the wrong idea that I'm getting engaged, finding an old girlfriend or traveling for an interview. Why build her expectations up too? While telling the Desired Girl the need to keep my mother in the dark, I inadvertently slipped the destination into the conversation -- "Chicago".

"You said, 'CHICAGO!' Are we going to CHICAGO?!"

With approximately fifteen hundred feet from the security check-point, I blew it. Nearly three to four weeks, I was able to keep a secret. Oh, well! But, she didn't know what we were going to do!

An hour flight later with non-stop conversation with questions and answers, we arrived at Midway Airport where we proceeded to the El and purchased two, All Day Visitor's passes with unlimited rides. The Desired Girl gets a kick out of public transportation and let me tell you, it not only made her happy but also saved me a few bucks which is all the better. After transferring trains, I vaguely recalled the station to exit in order to get to Jackson Park where we strolled through Millennium Park. What a difference five years makes as I barely recognized the park but also the changed skyline. Is it possible Chicago has even become more impressive?

After checking our reflection in the kidney shaped sculpture, I wanted to her to see the Art Museum because she almost went to the Art Institute on a full scholarship but declined - why? I have no idea but I'm sure I'll find out the real reason eventually. Instead, she studied Art Therapy in graduate school. Nonetheless, I thought she might like to walk through the museum; look at pieces of art; and engage conversation which we did. I got a kick out of it as someone whom I'm familiar with could explain the pieces, history and now of course, the apparent maladies the artist may have been expressing through his/her works. Whereas years ago, I enjoyed the surrealists, probably out of youthful desire to be a non-conformist, yearning for the absurd and hidden subtext, this time I had a greater appreciation for the impressionists.

She, once a clay thrower, caused the need to review clay works from China and art from some other dynasty where, obviously, I could only nod in agreement rather than expose my apparent ignorance - which is quite easy to expose.

After a couple of hours of pacing the museum's halls, the need for breakfast arose and I had already picked the place based upon our first date where she said, "First, you could never have too much garlic and never enough chocolate!"

My knee-jerk response to this statement, "I love you." Later that night on the first date I thought, "I have to take her to Chicago's Bistro 110 and also get Mally's Frango Mints." This alone is the reason why we were in Chicago - to share something I thought spectacular. Bistro 110.

Exiting the El on Chicago Street, we walked past my old college, Loyola University, where I pointed out Streeter's Tavern and Pippin's, dive bars where we drank beers between classes. Next, we walked past a hotel where I explained that 'we' always walked past the picture, glass windows were it's nightly residences would sip on coffee and we would hope one of them would be a famous a director who was seeking a 'nobody' to make famous in his newest picture. Truly, I was based in reality.

Bistro 110 had not changed and thankfully so. Clamoring with visitors and locals, we sat cozily across from eachother in a table made for two but also in a row of tables with fourteen other couples, each an elbow bump away. Private conversations would seem impossible but after the first five minutes, you did not notice your neighbor, nor did you care what they were saying. They simply vanished from view.

Immediately, they brought a bottle of Piere water, crunchy French bread and roasted garlic, one of their signature dishes. If ten years had past, I would have not known as it was just as good today. Clearly, the Desired Girl appreciated it as well and stated, "You don't know how jealous my father would be of me!" Later, she claimed him to be the first metro-sexual male who liked the finer things in life from clothing to food. She was impressed.

The brunch was exquisite and included strolling musicians from New Orleans - probably the displaced musicians. A lively atmosphere, fantastic food made this a restaurant to remember but what will make it unforgettable was the three layer chocolate cake big enough for person but just ample for the chocolate-holic, Desired Girl. She was right, "You could never have enough garlic or chocolate."

Afterwards, I played the role of Tour Guide and walked down Lake Shore Drive where I pointed-out my former apartment across from Michigan Avenue Beach and how vibrant the area is during the Summer.

With an elevator ride to 94th floor to John Hancock's observation deck, she became astounded by the Chicago's size and multitude of high-rise buildings. Inspired, she wanted to stand outside in the screened porch area to feel the breeze and have an Eiffel Tower moment. I'm not one for public display of affections but she assured me that if we were in Paris on the Eiffel Tower, no one would notice. There we kiss for nearly forty-five minutes. We definitely scared the other tourists with the exception of a little girl around four to five who kept her face pressed against the glass staring at us rather the Sears Tower across the city.

With the sun setting and a plan to catch, I had one more stop plan. In a hurried pace, we zig-zagged through the Michigan Avenue crowd and across the street where we stood in front of Ann Taylor, her favorite store. At one time in a humorous conversation she said, "If there was Heaven, it was an Ann Talyor store. And, if there were a god, he has the looks and voice of Richard Gere."

So there we stood in front of Ann Taylor's Petite Store and I said, "How many guys promised you heaven? But, how many guys actually delivered and followed through?" Don't know if this was overwhelming but I thought it to be funny. This is what the whole trip was about garlic, chocolate and heaven.

Yesterday - Tomorrow