Given the prices of RV parks, we opted for an Air BnB in the suburbs. A simple room affair in someone’s house. Perfect.

Now these people, who have for a modest fee allowed us use of their house, are lovely. Do not get me wrong. Absolutely lovely. But also scary as fuck. You wanna know why? Well, I’ll tell you.

They seem like rational human beings, even if you discount their love of the Christ (I will never understand the need in His followers to try and speak to me in terms of His revelation and spin every word into some exultation of His glory. 35 years in and fuck all has been revealed to me save from a deep appreciation of the scientific and a crushing doubt in just about all things touched by religious hand. Well that and a few boobs, they have also occasionally been revealed but anyway, I digress, I often do), but it is debate night…Yes THAT debate. The first between Clinton and Trump. Between the Arse and the Cancer Riddled Arse. But my host tries to tell of how reasonable, compassionate and smart C.R.A. is and that he had the foresight none of the others did along with the brains and decency that a president requires. I swear there are still pieces of my jaw in his carpet from when it dropped to the floor and smashed.

We watched the debate, avoided any further political talk with our hosts and the next morning headed out “Downtown”. The plan was excellent. Drive to the park and ride. Take the train then go in for an explore. We got to the park and ride. It was going well. Except to park there a permit was required. But nowhere to get permits. I wind the window down to ask a taxi driver how or where a non resident can park.

“’Scuse me Sir” I say “do you know if there is a pay parking we can leave our van to get the t

“You vant parrk overnight? Sleep right?” comes the reply in thick eastern euro tones.

“Noooooo, just to go into town”

“What you got in there?” He gestures to the top box and eyes the side of the van.

“Well it is a tent but we are going into town”

“You from London? I was in jail in London” he beams “long time ago…” you can see the maths in action behind his eyes “20 years! Yes 20 years ago” he puffs at the realisation.

“Oh” I say “That is nice…and a long time ago”

“Immigration jail you know, no crime, no crime”

“Ah”

“Parking, go to Hyatt hotel, park at back you take a right at lights, two blocks down take right at light then left. Park at back there. It’s safe.”

“Ok for sure, thanks, will do” window rolls up. Not going there then, we’ll find another park and ride. Now I know that might paint me as a judgemental prick. I might just even be a judgemental prick. But hey. What can I do.

I tap Park and Ride into Garmin. It says it’s half way in, so go for it. It dawns on me as we pull into the turning lane just before the destination road that there seem to be an awful lot of airport parking signs.

“This isn’t O’Hare airport neck of the woods is it?”

“No, Midpoint Airport.”

I sit in silence realising my catastrophe, happy that Conny has not yet noticed the two and the other two, so has definitely not put

them together. We drive along the street, and I pipe up,

“I am a little worried that there is all this airport sign and no rail tracks.”

I think you can figure the rest.

We enter downtown. Black Beauty is a tall horse. The stables are low. And if not low, very pricey.

We had planned on heading to the North on our last day on my pilgrimage to Mme Zuzu’s Tearoom.

However Conny throws this option up as the traffic has been nightmarish, the construction workers had been following our exact route and fucking us left, right and centre and we were starting to tire of said fucking.

Mme Zuzu’s was exactly called for.

I kindly young man offered us his advice upon tea selection, we dined on sandwiches and cake (choc chip pumpkin bread specifically), driking tea whilst playing scrabble. All in an off beat tea room cum vintage store full of Smashing Pumpkins memorabilia that was owned by one Mr William Patrick Corgan. The man that is the reason I play guitar like a do. A few hours in that place and the mornin’s tensions were a hazy memory.

On the return leg we did something quite rare, and stumbled upon a religion I knew nothing about. Baha’i.

It is apparently the newest of the recognised world religions, dating some 200 years. It incorporates many of the established religions much in the same way as the Qu’ran sees even Jesus as a messenger of God. All of the figures in these religions are seen as messengers of the same One God. Creator of all. From what I can tell there is very little hierarchical structure in the church. They believe in the oneness of all things, the dignity of all beings and that opression of people is bad. If it weren’t for that pesky spirit in the sky stuff, sounds like it could be my kind of religion. The temple however, was a thirty year labour of love and is one of only 8 in the world. It is quite magnificent.

Baha’i. Look it up. I’m going to.

We topped the evening with a Chicago style deep dish from Lou Manati’s and hit the hey.

Tomorrow was a new day.

Tomorrow became today and we headed for a different park and ride. Closer, free parking and a 4 buck bus ride into Downtown. Perfect. We stumbled off the bus under the Gotham rail tracks. Conny wanted to go on the open top bus so we did. It was raining. We sardined into the bottom deck and began our tour. As the weather perked up we got out at the pier, and did our general moseying thing.

Despite the weather, Chicago is a delightful city. Art everywhere. Tales of gangs and fabled grand gestures of love abound. There is a large Trump shaped erection and there are many parts where Chicago and Gotham are one. Much of this information was brought to us by Dan. One of the guides on the bus. I like Dan, he is an amusing sort. If I was staying longer, I would definitely follow Dan’s suggestions for a good time. He particularly like to point out the corrupt nature of Chicago. Their city jail is called the Governors Penthouse, due to the fact that 4 of the last 8 governors have served sentences there. 6 have been convicted of wrong doings. He highlights some of the key points of Al Capone’s involvement as a pillar of community, and entrepreneur, a job creator. All very tongue in cheek. He even ties the pizza house with a chapter of the freemasons and questions the coincidence of the name Lou Manati’s as a reference to the Illuminati.

We strolled Millenium park, which houses a been that has been buffed so much you can see your reflection in it and yes, I could not resist. I did indeed flick it. I flicked that bean.

The onward plan was to investigate the lakes area over the next few days as we mosey our way to the wonderful land that is Canada and a reunion with an old friend that was at least 16 years overdue. The elements however had an entirely different idea. The sheets of rain and visibility sapping clouds put pay to any enjoyable nature walks and sight seeing so we opted to drive with more haste to Toronto. That top part of the US though full orchards and green and lovely and nice…but also…Christian central. Never seen so many different flavours of the Christian fruit as I did on these roads. At one point we turned on to a highway and the first four buildings we passed were different denomination churches. Their really can not be this much requirement for the Christ child in these folks lives. Well apparently there is but I struggle to see how.