// And the Chicago Cubs will beat every team in the league //

I know I was just raving about my unbridled love for New York City, and I’d hate for you to find me fickle; but damned if I’m not utterly, ridiculously in love with Chicago, Illinois.

Not sure I could sum it up in just one reason why, and hell, I only ended up here because of a colossal letdown and changing plans for an already booked trip elsewhere.  Then it turns out to be just about the best part of my entire time away, so it just goes to show that I know nothing, clearly.

It’s a beautiful city – the dramatic skyline to rival New York, but on wider streets that call to mind Parisian boulevards.  A perfect mix of space and spectacle, in other words.  It goes without saying that the world-famous architecture is a treat for the eyes, but more than anything the order of it all is bizarrely soothing.  Legend has it that we have Mrs O’Leary’s cow to thank for burning most of the city down in 1871, thus allowing them to plan and create the aesthetically pleasing neatness that forms the city today.

The best view of it all comes from the famous Sears Tower (and if you call it the Willis Tower, you’re just a dumb tourist.  If you want to hear how Chicagoans feel about corporate rebranding of institutions, get them talking about those New York interlopers – Macy’s)  Seeing the city from the 103rd floor is really seeing it – and it’s the 5th highest building in the world, after all.  Not a problem for someone like myself who has absolutely no fear of heights.  Never troubled me, in fact I’ve hurtled off a bridge in my time without worrying too much about it.

Turns out that bravado evaporates when faced with the simple task of stepping out onto perspex over 103 floors of um, nothing.  Now I understand why people describe vertigo as such a violent reaction, having never experienced it before I thought they were a bunch of exaggerating wusses.  I won’t doubt their agonies again because that was a purely physical reaction as my feet ignored my mental commands to step forward.  Perhaps it was the lack of feeling anchored/tied to anything, but my knees locked in defiance and my stomach performed a triple somersault that would make any 12 year old gymnast green with envy.

Of course, once you actually force yourself out there, the feet register a solid surface underneath them and the freaking out storm quells.  I tried not to be too jealous of the people who could not only look down while standing out there, but in fact roll around and act like they weren’t a million miles up on just a piece of fortifed…whatever.  A humbling experience, to be sure.

It’s addictive as a place to explore though – the fact that Chicago sits on the shore of Lake Michigan just might be its most attractive feature.  The sand and the fresh air is delightful, even with crashing waves to set the scene.  Still, it’s fresh rather than sea water and I must admit the boat cruise I took was the highlight of just about everything.  The guy taking the tour said I looked ‘blissful’ and I’d really have to agree.

Sunday brought my most ‘American’ of experiences – the baseball game.  I’m not going to rewrite history here, I didn’t even think it was a sport in the true sense of the word before I saw it for myself.  Whether it was the easy camaraderie on the El to the game, or the warm welcome from the stadium staff, but by the time my new cap was in place and my ‘Cubbies’ scarf was tied around my neck, I was beginning to get the bug.  This was not, after all, just cricket without the crumpets.

I was surprised to discover the rules aren’t any more sophisticated than rounders, though all the statistical side of it is a tad too nerdy for me I’m afraid to say.  The hecklers became apparent after a few beers, and I knew I had found my people when they started casting aspersions about the Astros’ relief pitcher’s wife.  But for the accents and the action on the field, it could almost have been Anfield on a spring Saturday afternoon.

Alas, my Liverpool luck seemed to have travelled with me, and those darned Astros sneaked a 3-2 victory on the day.  The Cubs might suck, but they’re my boys now and I’ll be keeping an eye on their scores while squinting at the jargon that comes with this funny, insular little sport.  I wouldn’t have had such a perfect weekend without such amazing hosts, so many heartfelt thanks to Mr & Mrs ‘Flippet’ for their awesomeness.

Chicago, I think we can safely say I’ll be back.