The above title is not a typo (but it is extrapolated). A current client of mine is spending an inordinate amount of time away from his adopted Chicago home. Given the weather in the Midwest this April, it’s probably not a bad thing.
The Chicago thing made me think - “It was 20 years ago today…” - well… not today, but it was 1998. The Chief Robot and I were there in the Windy City on a plan that was also hatched at a previous TNSC meeting.
Chicago was great. Good friends, warm weather, The Weiner Circle, Trader Vic’s Mai Tai’s at the Palmer House, Martinis at the legendary Pump Room, Wine Spritzers at The Gentry, and Old Style™ and the Cubbies at Wrigley field.
But the highlight of my trip may have been at what was an innocuous corner bar then known as Tuman’s Tavern - whose motto was “We repair and install hangovers."
The exterior sported a beautifully painted window that proclaimed “Alcohol Abuse Center” as well as a similar neon sign within.
The first of my two most memorable parts of my visit there were my buying a round of Old Style™s for our crew of 10. Price tag = $7. The second was the Chief Robot urging me (against my better judgment) to visit the men’s room. He prefaced it by saying it resembled a scene in which a bomb-strapped terrorist ran into the bathroom, pulled the draw string, and detonated himself. He stated, "Despite how it looks, take a deep breath through your nose while you’re in there."
I timidly walked in (mostly because my bladder was starting to give) and low and behold, it DID look as though some jihadist had run into the restroom and proceeded to detonate himself and destroy the place. It was dank and dimly lit, there were paper towel stalactites allover hanging from the 15” high ceiling, the louvered swinging privacy doors on the “shitter” (Chicago term, I believe) had utterly collapsed, the towel dispenser hung crookedly on the wall, and the solo urinal was held up by a rickety pipe that had been pulled away from the wall.
While making use of said urinal, I decided to follow instructions and take in a nose-full of the environment to round out the Tumnan's experience. To my surprise, defying the physical look of the environment there was ZERO odor. In fact, it was almost like the sweet air of standing on a mountain top. I exited and have never doubted the word of the Chief Robot again.
Thinking back, now that the establishment is a gentrified "tap room" (read: boooor-innng) I felt lucky to experience how it used to be.
Tonight - Lucky 13
(By request / **CASH ONLY**)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
No comments:
Post a Comment