Saturday, June 17, 2006

Chicago! (Part I)

I felt bad leaving work early on Friday. All sorts of stuff was happening, but I had a flight to catch. And with the wonderful world of broadband, I could still keep in touch with the office. So off I went.

Anyways, after a bumpy, warm, nauseating descent into Ohare, we got our luggage and then hit the CTA train into downtown. The train was bumpy, warm, and nauseating. So not a good start to the trip. But we made it downtown and got to our hotel. The Hyatt Regency, which thanks to Priceline, was only $120 a night. Not bad considering. Great room and we got cleaned up and refreshed before heading out for the evening.

Mr. No Karma had a friend here, so we hooked up with him and hit a cool, hip, restatuant in the River North area. Dinner was just a blast. We dug into a big appetizer plate and started on the mojitos and the good times just started to roll. We got into telling old funny stories and we were all just laughing to the point where we were almost causing a scene. Let's put it this way, when you reference "Up With People", you just know it's going to be ugly. I excused myself to go use the bathroom and fell behind a short, stocky, black person with very short hair. We turned the corner and they walked by the door with the big M on it, so I had to stop them. "Sir, excuse me, sir. I think that's the women's room." At which point the person turned and snarled at me, "I'm not a SIR!". Oops. Of course No Karma's friend was right behind me and almost bit his tongue trying not to laugh. Of course after I went to the bathroom, I immediately left the restaurant so the big black lesbian wouldn't beat me up.

After dinner, we took a cab up Lakeshore Drive up to Boystown, the gay-hood. We went into Sidetracks and it was awesome. Multi-levels, multi-rooms, multi-bars. And nice. Like an upscale JRs. The three of us continued to talk and laught and have a good time while I was covertly checking out the guy next to us. Short, close cropped blond hair, almost a high and tight hair cut. Black tank top and muscles for miles. I kept looking at him and smiling at him, but I wasn't getting a reaction back, except that he kept looking at me. So when No Karma and his friend went to wander the bar, I went up and introduced myself to Mr. Muscles.

Yes, I have no shame, especially in a foreign city. Sure, I might make a fool of myself, but I'm never going to see these people again. Anyways, I go in and start chatting with Mr. Muscles. He's nice. We talk a bit. There's some light hooching. Some rubbing of muscles. Turns out he's 50! Talk about not looking your age. And apparently on steriods. So THAT'S how you get great muscles. But it was nice chatting (and hooching for a bit). Until . . . . these three guys come up to Mr. Muscles. One of them was a Greek God. I kid you not. Short dark hair, olive skin, and more muscles than you can believe. In a hot little black t-shirt with a very cool Superman design on it, he moved in on Mr. Muscles and there was some reciprocal muscle worship gonig on. Hello, what I am here, chopped liver? I would have liked to have hated Greek God, but he was really nice, and really funny, and he let me feel up his chest and biceps. I start my steriod injections tomorrow. Anyways, I hung out with them for a bit and then Mr. Muscles had to leave and the long day caught up with me and I just went back to the hotel to crash.


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