Leg one of the trip to Chicago is complete. Ok, so I’m writing this from the slightly unglamorous locale of the Park Inn just opposite Terminal three of Heathrow, on the A4. But you have to put this in it’s wider context, here I am, near our carriage to the Mid West. The Windy City. The home of the big chrome bean which is the only thing I’m dying to see! Other than the elevated subway and the place where Keanu Reeves was run over in the Lake House.
We got up after a leisurely lie in this morning. Had some cheerios, watched some Sian and Bill (who I will miss), then I did some personal grooming. Gay is so high maintenance. I shaved my chest, firstly with the clippers and then a razor. You will not believe how long a thatch like mine takes to tame. Bloody ages. It was a terrifying sight as well, I imagine it looked like a barber shop after the entire McGann family had gone in for a trim. Necessary evil. I almost wish I had never shaved my chest in anticipation of Mykonos in the summer, If I hadn’t known I liked my look better bald, I’d still be happy with my mammoth-like chest.
Pete did his packing this morning. Nothing like taking it to the wire. I of course spent my time productively. I submitted an entry into a project being run by people at Sheffield Uni called the Gay Icons Project. My submission? Of course. Ina Garten. My argument for her entry is that she promotes the notion of gay equality on an everyday level. Her friends are her friends. She talks about a great couple she knows having an anniversary, makes a three course dinner, invites them round et voilà, they are lesbians. All her male friends are as gay as the day is long, but that is never an issue, she discusses their professional talent, or when it comes to TR she jokes he can’t cook but always alludes to the fact he has always traded on those dashing good looks, that cheeky silver fox. I’m really hoping that they make her a gay icon. She is mine. Love her.
Although I think if Pete found out I had been doing that he would have a minor stroke. There he was running around like a mad man sorting himself out, and there I was wittering on about Ina again. I have a fear one day I will come home and he will have dropped the lifestyle and culture channels on sky just to save him having to sit through another episode. If we were married, that would be divorce petition territory. I had to delete some today to make sure we had space for our series links on our Sky plus planner. It made me cringe a bit to see that I had taped the same episode three times over, Now I do love the one with truffled Mac and cheese and lemon mousse, but I don’t need to enjoy it three times over.
We stopped en route to London, in Toddington to be exact, for a dirty Burger King. Loved it. Although I will be undoing that at the hotel gym when we land as a matter or urgency. Tonight we were going to eat at the Moroccan buffet in the hotel restaurant, but at £23 a head we sacked that off to go to a little Italian over the road, which was quite nice in the scheme of things. It started off dubiously when the eastern European waitress invited us to “take a shit” as we arrived. I translated that as a seat, as the alternative was just weird. But alas it was a hole filler, not a culinary experience, but the entire day was focused on just getting us to the bloody airport location, not about any experience. I think we’ll let Chicago show us how hospitality can really be done.
Right now, it’s us in our pants on the bed. Me blogging, Pete watching Grand Designs. In many ways, it’s just another Wednesday. But this time tomorrow I’ll be in Chi-Town. I still don’t believe it. It feels a long way off still. I can’t quite fathom it. But here we are! Can’t wait. It will be anything other than ordinary for the next seven days.
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