CHICAGO

It's 10:30 at night and Doug and I have set up camp here in Sioux Falls, SD. Not much to report on for today's activities, I'm afraid. We left Winnetka, IL at 10:30 this morning and have been driving ever since, stopping for gas and for dinner at a mom and pop's Mexican place for dinner. (And by mom and pop's, I mean lip-lickin' good and more than a little bit sketch.)

So let me back up a day. Yesterday morning, Doug and I left Lebanon and headed north to Chicago, arriving in the Windy City shortly after noon. Miraculously, we managed to drive into the heart of Chicago and PARK our car/trailer in a garage for the low, low price of 13 bucks for the day. For those of you out there praying for us, thank you.

Once in Chicago, our first stop was a walk down Michigan Avenue, where I was immediately struck by the wide streets, beautiful gardens, and fascinating architecture of this strange yet oddly familiar city. Fortunately for Doug, I restrained myself and only snapped a couple of pictures. After all, pretty streets are one thing, but Doug and I, we were on a mission and that mission, was aptly titled: Taste of Chicago. Now those of you who live in Charlotte are familiar with the festival of a similar name and in essence, it is the same concept: hundreds, and I do mean HUNDREDS of restaurants from around the city come together and set up booths downtown. As a participant, it is then your job to meander the swarmed street tasting the delectable, finger sized tid-bits presented to you by the venders. So basically, we gorged. Mexican Empanada? yes please! Indian Samosa? Of course! Chinese Boa Bun? Why not?

Awesomeness.

So, after feasting upon the best Chicago had to offer, we make our way to Navy Pier in search of an IMAX theater. We don't care where or how, but IMAX is calling us forth and we have no choice but to answer with a "two tickets for Kung Fu Panda please." Of course, it only took us 45 minutes to hike across town, along the shore of Lake Michigan, to reach the gloriously cold mecca of air-conditioned entertainment. And oh was it glorious, Jack Black included.

By now, we have worked up quite a sweat (I am scaring little children away with the smell reeking from my pores) and our appetites begin to re-awaken. It's Chicago stuffed pizza time, baby!! Off to Giordano's we trot, revived by visions of a pizza so delicious, some say it was sent down on a golden chariot by his Holiness Himself. After waiting an hour for our own personal slice of heaven, I hold onto my faith. It will come; soon, I will be graced with its esteemed presence. Sure enough, the pizza arrives and, honestly, it's all rather a blur from there. Even now, I get dizzy thinking about how freakin' wonderful that pizza was. The stories are wrong though. God didn't commission the baking of that pizza; God WAS that pizza and that pizza WAS God. And I have finally seen the glowing light of salvation, a salvation stuffed full of gooey mozzarella, garlic, tomato saucy goodness, and giant chunks of meaty sausage.

Haleluia and Amen.