Day Twelve (again): Sorry but I can't take you.

We stared long and hard at weather map on the morning of Day Twelve, but there just wasn't any way we could do it. We'd already been driven out of St. Paul by a random snowstorm and now the best meteorologists the Internets could buy were saying the snow was just the edge of a Severe Weather system which was moving North and East. Much as we were hoping to do. And there was just no way our hardy SoCal car and her duo of SoCal travelers were going to be able to make it to Lambeau Field. And because we weren't there, I'm sure that Brett Favre came to play one last game in the snow of the parking lot with any fans that happened to have braved the weather. Had we been there, we would have let him borrow our Joe Montana ball and it would have been, quite simply, the best thing ever. But, instead, Brett Favre had to go home disappointed and we had this day:

Almost as soon as we got on the freeway heading toward Chicago we began to notice signs of hope. The road was wet with melted snow and ice and, just as we crossed into Illinois, the sun broke out of the clouds. We were jubilant. Since we'd left Seattle we'd been driving with more than a little trepidation. There were many trials and tribulations that we'd prepared ourselves for before leaving our sweet home in Long Beach. Snow driving was not one of the ones we'd thought about strongly. It's April, after all. But we'd been seeing frozen lakes, icy fields, and avalanche embankments where we thought we'd be seeing spring's first glory. And let's not forget that, California girl that I am, my idea of "cold weather gear" was a windbreaker and Converse. So when we saw the sun finally start to impact the scenery, when it started streaming through the windows and thawing us out, we were jubilant. "It's definitely unfair to the rest of the states," I said, "Because clearly Illinois is the best."
Four tollbooths later, I was a little less enthusiastic. But still, creeping closer across the page of our 2004 Michelin US Road Atlas was Chicago. Legendary Chicago, a real destination wherein could only wait magic. When we got off the freeway into the city, we were stoked. Our first stop was the Michael Jordan statue at the United Center, where Mike continued his tour of bronze versions of his heroes (I'm looking forward to the next stop on my operatic tour of web comics). Then we navigated the streets to the Threadless retail store, which was entirely as awesome as I thought it would be. I picked up a new design that you all won't get to see till Monday (boo-yah, officially!) and we decided to head downtown and see some museums, explore the lakefront park, and get some of that famous Chicago pizza.

Here are some travel ideas for tourists interested in making their first trip to Chicago more than just almost awesome.

First: Chicago is not the type of city for which the phrase "we decided to head downtown" should ever be followed closely by the word "and." This is because it is literally impossible to navigate the traffic-laden streets of downtown Chicago even if it weren't rush hour on a Friday and even if you did have a clear idea of where you were going. And when I say literally, I mean it.

Second: Chicago museums close at 5. And that means they stop letting people in at 4. Yes, this includes the Field Museum, one of the most famous natural history museums in the world. And yes, this is probably some sort of Cinderella arrangement with Tyrannosaurus Sue who obviously comes to life after nightfall.

Third: There is a reason Chicago is called "The City Beset By Icy Winds of Death." No matter how pleasant the evening might seem when you arrive in the city, beware the gusts which blow through the city like immortal banshee revelers, stealing the joy out of every heart and the breath out of every lung.

Fourth: The famous deep dish Chicago pizza, while a little strange, is pretty good when flavored with the horrifying oddness of the family who will sit next to you at the restaurant. Trust me on this. It is much, much more important that you eavesdrop on their conversation than it is for you to work through your first slice of pie. Here is a quote: "The only Snow White and the Seven Dwarves I know is a porn I saw." This from the lady who brought the ten-year-old to the famous pizza joint and who was promptly shushed by the gay couple that was taking him to the ballet.

We felt like we missed out on something great. Much like the infamous parking lot game with Brett Favre, we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. We're gonna try and see it again, this time with more careful planning and some heavier jacketing. In the meantime, we got out of town as soon as traffic let us and blasted Chi-town rap as we did.

Listened to: "Goin' to Chicago Blues" by Lambert, Hendricks, and Ross, Illinoise (Sufjan Stevens), Be (Common), The Cool (Lupe Fiasco) and the distinctive and dusty sound of museum doors being shut in our faces.

Mystery words: "Oh, he definitely had his pants stolen."

Mike will soon explain: astoriedyear.blogspot.com