…when you’ve been blogging since 2001, coming up with titles eventually lands itself on the RAT’S ASS list.

I don’t know what that means, other than I’m all tapped out these days with stringing words together cleverly, like some fucking McSweeney’s Christmas tree garland.

Today’s Chicago weekend installment will mostly consist of photos of Navy Pier because, judging by my camera roll, I found that spot to be especially inspiring I guess.

As usual, I was the first one out of bed Sunday morning. I’m always rearin’ to go when we’re out of town, when Henry could happily lounge around the hotel room until noon. I guess he wants to get his money’s worth.

This view was super familiar by the time the weekend was over.

The plan for Saturday was to take the L downtown, have a cheap breakfast (LOLOLOL at cheap), and then head over to Navy Pier.

This little spot was so pretty and mysterious!

We decided to grab a donut a Do-Rite, because the Firecake donut from the night before had awoken some latent doughnut craving in me that has honestly never been active before. Very rarely do I ever seek out donuts, but that pistachio old-fashioned inspired me.

And of all the options at Do-Rite, I honed right in on their pistachio option, which was different than Firecakes. Theirs also had a meyer lemon glaze — two of my favorite flavors on one donut!

We also each got a breakfast sandwich, and I’m so happy we did because they were a million times better than I expected. I thought it was going to be some lazily slopped-together egg thing on a generic english muffin or something, but nope—they were served to us on warm, buttery brioche buns. Holy shit they were so good. Mine had avocado and some other shit on it, I can’t remember. I’m so glad that Chooch and I only ate half of our donuts, because these sandwiches needed to be devoured, entirely, at once.

Here’s my donut. I ate my sandwich too fast to get a picture.

These birds wanted us to feed them so bad but Henry was all DO NOT FEED THEM LOOK HOW FAT THEY ARE THAT ONE CAN BARELY FLY.

The highlight of breakfast, which we ate at a table outside of the shop, was when some blond bitch came over and squeezed herself into a table, slamming her chair into the back of some lady’s chair in the process. Said lady had been sitting peacefully at her table until this happened, and it made her snap out. She gathered up her belongings, turned to the chair-slammer and said, “YOU COULD HAVE SAID EXCUSE ME” and then stomped away. It was epic. So dramatic. The blond bitch never turned around, just acted like nothing happened and pretended she wasn’t some rude-ass bitch.

I GUESS YOU HAD TO BE THERE.

Coming up: so many pictures of whatever lake that is. You know, one of those great ones.

Henry said, “Pretend like you like each other” because we had been bickering so badly prior to this, you have no idea, except if you know us, yes you do have an idea. Probably several.

Pretending we like each other. “Oh, pu-hahahaha, such good times.” Chooch was mad because HE WANTED TO DO ALL OF THE THINGS and we kept saying no because I’m fucking sorry, but I didn’t go to Chicago to spend a beautiful day inside the Children’s Museum. I came to see fucking TAEYANG. GODDAMN PRINCE YOUNG-BAE. Everything else was secondary.

Furthermore, my kid never even wants to go to the Children’s Museum in our own damn city.

We did go on the ferris wheel thing though. Well, Chooch and I did. Henry is too much of a tight-wad*, so he stayed on terra firma.

*(Frugal or scared, you be the judge!)

We got to the Navy Pier right after it opened at 10 so we only stood in line for the wheel for about 5 minutes, if even that. It was a miracle.

We shared a car with a family of four and some rando guy who is probably some YouTuber based on his creepy camera but everyone was super chill and I was thankful for that because we were stuck in that thing for like 15 minutes and I had THE SWEATS big time because I forgot how much I hate these things.

The wheel went around for three whole revolutions and we didn’t fight during a single one! Henry has a theory that he’s the catalyst and I think that’s accurate.

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CAN YOU FIND HENRY?!

Henry texted and said that a G-Dragon song was playing on the swings and I was like, “LOL OK YEAH RIGHT SURE NICE TRY HANK” but he swore up and down that this was Truth. Conveniently, he couldn’t think of the name of the song, how it goes, or if it’s old or new.

I feel like Chooch and I hanged up on Henry at some point while toiling around on the pier and found some dumb reasons to be mad at him and to start so many fights. I wonder what we look like to passers-by.

While we were strolling about, I made some comment on how diverse and indie the music was that was playing over the loud speakers, for instance, The Decemberists was playing and I was briefly transported back to the early ’00s when I was a little music snob and loved all that pretentious Portland muzak. About one minute later, the song switched and I was all HOLD UP WAIT A MINUTE because it was motherfucking “Coup d’etat” by G-DRAGON. Henry wasn’t lying to me!

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Henry said that this wasn’t even the song he heard earlier, so that’s at least two different G-Dragon songs that Navy Pier has on tap. Chicago, you are LEGIT.

From here, we decided to go to Lincoln Park. BUT THAT IS A POST FOR ANOTHER DAY.

One trend on Instagram that kind of gets on my nerves is hashtags to commemorate vacations. Like #TheSmithsInSaskatoon or #RandomLifestyleBloggerInPalmSprings. I was thinking about what hashtag I would use if I was some Instagram try-hard and the only thing I could think of was #TheFuckSticksDoChicagoOnABlueCollarBudget

Seemed a bit long and clunky though.

It was somewhere in between lunch & dinner when we were toiling around Milennium Park. None of us were particularly starving yet but I made the executive decision that we should find somewhere to eat ASAP before any fuses got blown.

Some of us go from zero to KILLKILLKILL when it comes to feeding schedules. The ‘some of us’ that don’t have beards.

Henry determined that one of the famous (aren’t they all) deep dish joints was within walking distance so we set off into the unknowns of Chicago. Chooch and I were particularly fascinated/horrified every time we had to walk underneath a train thingie.

You know.

Those thingies.

Here in Pittsburgh, we have a fuck load of bridges. Honestly. If you take any tour here in the ‘Burgh, you will learn that Pittsburgh has the second most bridges of any city in the world but I can’t imagine this is true.

We do have a ton though, as well as tunnels, both of which I hate and have no choice but to travserse every single day in order to get to and from work.

That being said, I really enjoyed walking across this bridge in Chicago! And the river below didn’t make me clench as much as our gross rivers do.

I’m not sure what transpired internally from one side of the river to the next, but Chooch was a hornet after we crossed. So then I started to feed off that and shouted things like WE SHOULD HAVE LEFT YOU AT HOME WITH YOUR GRANDMOTHER THIS IS THE WORST TRIP I HATE EVERYTHING.

And then Henry accidentally hit him in the mouth (I swear—Chooch is supposed to be guest-blogging about this) when he was trying get something out of his pocket, and then Chooch started to cry out of shock and there were people walking toward us and all I could think was THIS IS 2017 NOW WE WILL HAVE OUR SON TAKEN AWAY AND WE’LL HAVE TO MOVE TO CHICAGO TO BE CLOSE TO THE ORPHANAGE.

But then everything was OK because we saw the restaurant up ahead—-and all of the hundreds of people waiting outside of it.

Even at 3pm there was a 90 minute wait. Nope.

So we found another “famous” deep dish place right up the street and the wait there was only 30 minutes but they sat us after about 5 – I think they were just trying to look cool, I dunno.

You guys, this place was so unmemorable to me that I had to Google “deep dish Chicago” and hope that the one we ate at looked familiar to me. Apparently, it was Gino’s.

Look, there was nothing bad about this place AT ALL. We had a great waitress who was very attentive (such as when Chooch banged his elbow off the table while ordering, she asked him if he was OK, which was more than Henry and I did because we didn’t even know anything happened), the beer selection was good (I think?), and the pizza was fine! But the thing is, we’re just not that wild about deep dish. Is that weird? I think it’s good, but I’m very picky with pizza and if we had deep dish in Pittsburgh I would probably skip it every time in favor of Giovanni’s and Fiori’s because I love that greasy thin crust/sweet sauce combo, yeah boi.

I liked that nearly every surface of the place was covered in customer graffiti. It made it feel wonderfully late-80s and that appealed to me. To be honest, I was still kind of annoyed even after we were seated, but then Billy Ocean’s “Caribbean Queen” came on and all was right in my world again. And then Henry made it wrong when he said he was looking at my painting of Billy Ocean the other night when he was sitting at the computer and couldn’t for the life of him remember who it was supposed to be BECAUSE I’M A SHITTY ARTIST, SAY IT HENRY. SAY THE FUCKING WORDS.

We were originally sitting at a table but then a booth opened up right after we ordered so Henry asked if we could move and the waitress was like IDGAF and then lovingly called Chooch “Bub” or something—she only liked communicating with him and just gave Henry and me the dregs of her personality allotment. Which was fine! I WASN’T IN THE MOOD FOR SMALL TALK ANYWAY.

Seriously though, she was a good waitress.

I did like this pizza. The crust had a sweetness to it that reminded me of something from my childhood. One piece was enough for me though, jesus christ! That pizza sits like a brick in your stomach.

Mostly, we only ordered a small because we wanted to get ice cream or something afterward, because that’s what we do, OK? Some people go to a new city to see war memorials or art, we go for the ice cream. But then I realized that Firecakes was super close to where we just ate, and even though I’m not a big donut fanatic, I thought that maybe Chicago donuts could change my mind.

Yep, they did. 

We had a lot of Chicago calories to walk off, so we roamed around.  Chooch counted all the dogs he saw, imprinted on a bunch of geese, and fell down several steps at Trump Tower (more reason to hope that guest post comes to fruition). But the important thing to note is that since we were properly fed and sugared, we all got along wonderfully for the rest of the evening!

We went back to Millennium Park, pretended to be interested in the jazz festival for a few minutes only because Chooch had to use the bathroom, and then accidentally walked to Buckingham Fountain.

They were standing sort of like this on accident but then I made them do it more pronounced and then Chooch started crying because Henry stepped on his foot.

After this, we walked to get coffee at Goddess and the Baker (which I wrote about in the Firecakes link up above, because god forbid I should ever keep everything together in one nice, organized blog post), and almost immediately after that, the skies opened up and huge, fat rain drops fell out of nowhere. There wasn’t any rain in the forecast, so we  were like, “Is this a Chicago thing, or…?” Instead of taking the L back to Chinatown and having to walk another 4 blocks back to the hotel in the rain, we took a Lyft. Chooch was so excited about this. I don’t know why he gets so excited about Lyfts and Ubers. Our driver was an older man who took a phone call from his friend Joe. They talked about taking the helicopter out the next morning and if someone was still in Mexico, I don’t know the details because I stopped paying attention when my mom texted me about a TOP doll she found on eBay and asked me if I wanted it and I was like, “Please if it’s BIGBANG or just kpop-related in general, do not ask. Just buy.”

Our driver’s phone kept going off during the whole ride back  though, and it was that signature T-Mobile chime, so I kept thinking it was TJ from the MTV, texting us with the next challenge. (REAL WORLD/ROAD RULES CHALLENGE JOKE, YOU GUYS.)

Anyway, that concludes day 1 in Chicago. We walked 35,000 steps, not as much as Toronto, but enough to make Chooch complain. Get on our level, chump.

Hi Guys! Chooch here and I am going to be telling all about my Injuries all over Chicago!

So this one is very much important and I am flipping off Trump Tower because long story short I fell down the steps on the back and twisted my ankle, but not that bad.  :P Trump should leave America alone and worry about making his steps great again.

Next, this pho was taken directly after I had been slammed in the trolley door. So we were getting off at this stop and all of a sudden Daddy stops and I am tapped in between the doors and I can’t go anywhere. Then all of a sudden, the doors closed and I was stuck for a split second. But thankfully daddy started moving and I got out!

Another injury happened when we were walking to some pizza place and daddy stuck his hand down my pants “Accidently” and so I did it to him, and he put his elbow back to push me away but he ended up hitting me right in the mouth. So it looked like daddy abused me.

The last injuries that happened both in the span in 30 seconds, was at Rite-Aid and I got medicine because I was sick. But I also went into the bathroom because I had to, and I hit my elbow off the door, and I was like “Ow!” and then when I went into the stall I slammed my finger in the door on accident and it hurt for like 10 minutes.

So there you guys go, those are the 4… Oh hey! I missed one!

So the pizza place we were headed to, when I got hit in the mouth (See Sentence 3), we ended up not going to because it was crowded and I was kind of crying soooooo we didn’t go there, we went to another pizza place really close by. And I stopped crying so it was fine until we got a table and we were ordering and I banged my elbow of the edge of the table, I was fine but it stung for a second.

So there you go, that was the 5 injuries I had in Chicago, I hope you enjoyed! Make sure you SMASH that like button, and also Subscribe to Ohhonestlyerin and leave a comment telling what you liked and what you maybe thought was dumb that I added! PEACE!

Here is one of those stories that starts out with, “Henry was so mad!” when I’m telling someone in real life, and then it takes 30 minutes to get to the part that made Henry mad.

So a few months ago, maybe the end of May, beginning of June, I was walking down Brookline Boulevard when I noticed that the old BBQ joint had newspaper taped to the windows, with coffee cups and burgers hand-drawn all over. There were also random “P”s drawn on it, and a word bubble that said, “Coming soon.”

I was mildly excited, but really how often do I patronize any Brookline establishments? I figured it was going to be another meat place, because that’s all that seems to ever go into that one spot. BBQ meat. Southern soul meat. Meat meat. Whatever the latest meat trend is.

But then one day as I walking by, I was looking at those “P”s and I thought to myself, “THOSE Ps LOOK FAMILIAR.” It eventually occurred to me that it looked similar to the font used by this sandwich shop in Dormont that Chooch and I like.

“CHOOCH, I THINK PARKER’S IS OPENING A LOCATION ON BROOKLINE BLVD,” I screamed to him as I flung open the front door, all out of breath from my courageous journey home to desperately deliver to him this wild speculation.

Chooch was excited, because we love Parker’s! But we still weren’t sure this was a thing that was happening. I kept stalking them on social media until finally, weeks and weeks after my first Velma-in-an-orange-turtleneck hunch, there was an official announcement on their Facebook page that they were moving to a larger location in Brookline. I love being right! Save me a seat in the Mystery van, yo.

This commenced a summer-long waiting game. The “coming soon” was never replaced with a date, but eventually, two peep holes were made in the newspaper on the windows, into which Chooch and I peered around cupped hands, like two little orphans hungrily ogling a porridge shop.

“You guys are pathetic,” Henry sighed, not giving in to any peeping desires.

“We love Parker’s!” Chooch yelled.

“You wouldn’t understand!” I spat. “You’ve never been there!”

“Well, you two have only been there like three times and act like you’re regulars there,” Henry tried to reason but I saw right this and determined that HE’S JUST JEALOUS. HATERS GON’ HATE. SHAKE IT OFF.

#WhatWouldTSwiftSay

“Twice, actually,” I said, and Henry just threw his arms up to the Heavens and walked away in defeat.

I don’t really know why Chooch and I had only gone to Parker’s twice though, because we really enjoyed our experience there: the sandwiches (with pop culture-friendly names, like the Regina George, Shooter McGavin, Piano Necktie…), the ambiance (group convos galore!), and most importantly: the proprietor, Parker himself. Every time (ALL TWO TIMES) Chooch and I were there, he looped us into the counter conversation and made us feel like we were a part of something.

Being included in the reindeer games is basically all I want out of life, so this made Parker’s extremely appealing to me.

And yet, we only went twice. I think it was mostly because we usually eat out for dinner, and Parker’s is one of those joints that closes early, like at 3pm. And on weekends, if we’re going out for lunch, we’re already out and about in some other area, not in our neighborhood.

Excuses, excuses.

And it’s not like the old Parker’s was so out of the way. It was actually probably the same distance away from our house as the new one is. Brace yourselves for my super high-quality map that I drew today at my desk specifically to illustrate to…someone, I hope…exactly where my house is in relation to each location:

The first time Chooch and I went to Parker’s was Black Friday, 2014, and then a year later with Janna.

Two whole times. But you’d think we ate there so much, they named a grilled cheese after us. Or at the very least that Parker kept my senior picture in his wallet like my favorite waitress from Denny’s did when I was in high school. Oh, Maryann.

I was off two Fridays ago, because that’s the day we left for Chicago (much later in the day than planned, though). I went for a walk that morning and saw some people going into Parker’s! I rubbernecked on my way past and sure enough, the lights were on and there people at some of the tables! Some broad from the deli next door was outside smoking a cigarette.

“Looks like they’re finally open!” she said in the expected husky bray of a Pittsburgh smoker. “I been waiting all summer for this!”

“Did you ever eat there when it was in Dormont?” I asked.

“No, I never even heard of it before!” she coughed.

“It’s so good!” I said, calling on my old telemarketer’s enthusiasm (I was a fucking excelsior telemarketer back in the day). “And the guy who owns it is so nice!”

The broad said she was even more excited to check it out now, and I waited until she was out of earshot to call Henry and giddily tell him this transgression.

“YOU ONLY ATE THERE TWICE!” he yelled.

Sadly, we were gone that whole weekend, and since they close at 3 every day, we didn’t get a chance to check out the new digs until this past weekend. I was SO EXCITED to wake up Sunday morning and walk there.

“Wow, you and Chooch must be so happy to visit your old stomping grounds,” Henry said, tufts of sarcasm unfurling from his flaring nostrils.

I mean, yeah. Yeah, we were.

We were practically skipping, locked arms, with a rainbow underfoot.

We walked in around 9am and I was totally floored by the design of the space. It is DOPE. Exactly the type of place that Brookline needs! I was still in the middle of looking all around and silently saying, “WOOOOOOOOOW” when the man himself, Luke Parker, came out from behind the counter and said to Chooch and me, “Where the hell have you guys been?!”

LOL HENRY WAS SO MAD! All that build-up, acting like we were regulars, and the owner actually remembered us! Henry was like, “HOW. HOW HOW HOW.” Oh my friends, it was so satisfying! He even came over and talked to us (i.e. just me and Chooch) about the trials and tribs of moving to this new spot, adding to the menu, needing to hire more people — it sounds like the first week was a success and they haven’t even had their official grand opening yet, as far as I could tell. I’m so glad for the whole Parker clan!

“You two must have really made an impression,” Henry mumbled.

Somehow, the breakfast sandwich I ordered tasted even better than I remembered: egg whites, avocado, sprouts, tomato and mayo on a whole wheat bagel. Plus a cup of delicious Zeke’s coffee, which I spilled over myself because I didn’t have the lid on right and Henry was all, “Haha, serves you right.” I’d last through approximately one coffee order if I ever got a job as a barista.

I’m excited to frequent this place more often, especially now that it’s in an area where I do most of my walking. Even if I’m just popping in for a cup of coffee. I want this place to succeed so badly. I’m going to bring all my friends here. Who wants to go?

I’d tell you that if you ever stop there for a pop culture sandwich, to tell ’em that Erin & Chooch sent ya, but we’re not on a name-knowing basis there yet.

YET.

I’m not giving up on my grilled cheese namesake dream. My goals are askew.

Chooch let me do the stupid wavy eyebrow challenge thing in him because we’re bored and Henry isn’t paying attention to us. But then I had to let him do it on me too & it was horrifying, having his grubby hand so close to my eyes with a pencil. 

Henry didn’t even notice at first. He was too busy looking at computer auctions or mold rants on Reddit, or whatever it is he does on his phone. 

Now I feel like we should do this at work tomorrow in our weekly meeting, kind of like TRUST FALLS. 

On Saturday, we had donuts and coffee at some point while in Chicago. I’m not a big donut connoisseur by any stretch, but that might be because Pittsburgh doesn’t really have much to offer in that vein. (Although I still haven’t tried Duck Donuts and that place seems appealing to me.)

(And please don’t say BUT PEACE, LOVE, LITTLE DONUTS because I fucking refuse to support an establishment owned by a homophobic bigot piece of shit. It saddens me how many pieces have seemed to either overlook that or have forgotten. But I never forget!)

I wanted to try Firecakes though because they’re reknown for their donut ice cream sandwiches. Unforch, we stopped here right after eating pizza and I did not have it in me to find room in my stomach next to all that cheese. Ugh. I always have big plans of visiting a city and eating all their trendy food and then end up only eating two meals. 

(Honestly, aside from breakfast in Indiana that morning, the late lunch pizza was only sit-down meal for the day in Chicago.)

If there is anything pistachio on the menu, I will snatch that shit up without a secondary glance. This Sicilian pistachio old-fashioned was a DELIGHT. My donut preference is light and non-messy. Nothing filled. I hate filled donuts! And I’m not big into chocolate-y ones either. I like ones that get most of the flavor from the actual donut dough, and that’s how this one was. Not too sweet, with a gentle, light-handed pistachio nuance. #doucheyYelpreview

I didn’t want to share, but I did because I wanted to try Henry’s which was good but messy and filled. :( It was butterscotch praising, which I almost ordered but now I’m glad I didn’t because that pistachio was everything I wanted in that moment. 

(I just stared dreaming at the photo of it for a couple seconds into the Inappropriate Zone.)

Chooch got a red velvet but I didn’t try his because, I can’t believe I’m going to say this, I think I’m over red velvet. We had a long, good run together though! 

Later that evening, we hit up Goddess and the Baker because it was the only non-Starbucks cafe open at that hour within walking distance. Henry hated  it immediately because he hates coffee and everything about that scene. Chooch was down though because he’s a hot chocolate aficionado. 

I got a pourover and later had major order-remorse when I noticed the specialty drink menu — so many interesting flavored lattes that appealed to me! I’m really into honey, floral, and maple—not all in one latte, but you know…if I wander into a coffee joint that has those options beyond your standard pumpkin spice and caramel, I will happily overlook the pretentious third wave coffee klatch I’m inevitably walking in on. 

(Speaking of, there is a place here in Bloomfield that has an impressive list of housemade floral syrups and maybe I’ll stop there today—YOU DONT KNOW MY SCHEDULE!)

That pourover was delicious though. However, while I was waiting for it, some suspicious guy walked in, came right up to me because why wouldn’t he, and said something like, “Excuse me, miss” and then a bunch of words in a tone entirely too low for me or most normal-eared humans to possibly hear. I panicked because he had a very questionable aura to him so I blurted, “I DONT HAVE ANYTHING IM SORRY” because I assumed that he was asking for money or my pledge to Christ. 

There was a moment of uncertainty where I was braced for a knife in the gut, but then he nodded and walked slowly back out onto the street. 

I kee expecting this sign to say “eat now caffeinate later” and that would just be so fucking wrong. 

Overall, I would go back to both of these places in Chicago (they each have multiple locations, too) and probably would try to save room for a donut ice cream sandwich next time because I have The Regrets. 

Thank you. This has been a coffee and donut intermission. 

Technically, this was my fourth time in Chicago, but I have never actually gotten to see anything or explore because we are always there for Riot Fest, and that’s a three day music festival which doesn’t really allow for tourism time. I’ve never even had a chance to see the Bean in person!

So I was really happy when Henry agreed to leave a day earlier for the Taeyang concert so that we would have a full day on Saturday to actually walk around downtown Chicago like fuckin’ tourists, man.

First, we explored the Bahá’í Temple, and then we checked into our hotel, the Chicago Loop Hotel, which was…downtown but not downtown? I don’t know. I don’t feel like looking at a map right. I can tell you that it was about a 10 minute ride on the L to get to the main attractions in downtown Chicago, though.

The hotel was way nicer than I expected though, after three straight years of staying in the grodiest “hotel” for Riot Fest, so shady that it had a different name all three times. It was definitely one of the nicer rooms Frugal Father has put us up in, and Chooch and I were both impressed. I do this thing where I’m like, “I don’t care if we have to stay in a freaking hostel, I just need to get to [x city] for [x concert]!” but really I’m like, “Please god at least let it be three stars.”

We chilled in the room long enough for me to have a wardrobe change and just chill out for 30 minutes or so. Chooch turned on the TV just in time for me to cry my fucking face off at the tail end of “Fried Green Tomatoes.” Chooch asked me what the movie was even about and as soon as I tried to give him a synopsis, my throat got all closed up and I started sobbing.

It’s just emotion that’s taken me over
Tied up in sorrow, lost in my soul

Sorry. Bee Gees breakdown.

And guess what we had to walk through to get to the L station?!

Fucking Chinatown, man! What luck!

Ah, the wonderful smells and sights of Chinatown! One of the ice cream places on my list was actually in Chinatown, and I had just spotted it across the street when suddenly Chooch started screaming, “MOMMY! KPOP!” and I was like….

“WHAT OMG LET’S GO!!” and Henry was all, “….um, that looks closed. Come on, keep walkin—-” but I was already jay-walking across the street and wrenching the door open.

SORRY HENRY THIS JOINT IS OPEN.

It did kind of look closed though. And not just “closed for the day” but “closed for life.” Why were the windows so dark, like a sex shop!?

This place wasn’t as friendly as the store we visited in Toronto, but it was still like walking into a life-sized diorama of my heart. Glorious kpop was floating out of the store’s speakers while a TV mounted to the wall played the accompanying MVs. Teenaged fangirls were running amok, scooping up every item that featured their biases: pillows, socks, piggybanks. I found a Running Man pillow that I really wanted but it was $25 and kind of small, so I decided that Henry will just have to get a sewing machine and make his own k-pillows.

Ugh, I hate how expensive kpop merch is! We did stop back the next day though and I bought a BIGBANG coffee cup. Chooch got some dumb cat change purse, which was entirely unrelated to kpop but OK.

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A few blocks later, we arrived at the Cermak/Chinatown L station. I got all clenched up and nervous because public transportation is so confusing to me. Luckily, Henry can read a map with colored lines on it and use common sense to figure out which line to get on and where to get off, while Chooch and I just stood there and stared at people like Amish kids out on Rumspringa.

After Henry purchased our tickets, Chooch and I made asses of ourselves trying to get through the gate thing and one of the CTA workers had to come over and help. Chicago is hard!

The ride into town was relatively painless though. It wasn’t too crowded for a Saturday afternoon and no one was particularly shifty.

Then when we got off the L, Chooch fell when he was trying to race Henry up the station steps. This would be the first of many Chicago injuries for your boy Chooch.

Anyway, we made it downtown and emerged from the underground which Chooch got all giggly about because THIS IS WHAT A REAL CITY FEELS LIKE SON. None of that quaint Pittsburgh shit. I can basically walk the perimeter of downtown Pittsburgh on my lunch break, and nothing makes it feel more small than coming back to it after a weekend in a city like Chicago or Toronto. Sigh. I still love you, Pittsburgh. The Tiny Tim of US cities.

What happened next was that we walked to Millenium Park to see the Bean…

…but first we stopped to admire these kooky water fountains first which I actually loved way more than the Bean…

So creepy and beautiful all at once. 

There was a jazz festival happening in the park so that added to the crowd. Typically I balk at large crowds of humans but the people there weren’t being pushy and it didn’t make me feel like I was suffocating, so we forged on, closer to the Bean. 

This was when we started experience inter-familiar breakdown though, mostly between me and Chooch, because he wasn’t cooperating with me and he was making the act of snapping a family Bean reflection selfie excruciatingly frustrating, and then accused of us trying to LOSE HIM at one point so I threw a tantrum and yelled about just going back to the hotel and that everyone could kindly fuck off into the sun. 

But then I thrusted my phone into Henry’s chest and told him to deal with it, so he took a picture of the three of us like it was the simplest act in the world, and then we agreed that it was time for Chooch and me to feed our demons before they caused our heads to rotate…

That Hunts, though. 

After checking out of our last minute hotel, we stopped to have breakfast at Savory Family Restaurant before leaving Sturgis, Indiana. Chooch and I had massive egg&cheese croissants which neither of us could finish And yes, I chose to eat at this place just because it was called Savory. I love that word.

In the parking lot afterward, there was that brief moment of uncertainty if Henry was going to unlock the doors for us.

One of these days…

The only thing I remember about our Saturday morning drive was that I had a major hypochondriac breakdown and started screaming about how it feels like my whole body is full of cancer and then Henry was all, “THEN GO TO A FUCKING DOCTOR!” and I was all, “NO I WILL NOT!”

And so on and so forth.

This is what it’s like dating a girl who grew up with the Merck Manual on her bedside table.

Um, anyway. The whole reason we were en route to Chicago was so I could see Taeyang perform at the Aragon Theater, but since that wasn’t until Sunday night, we had the whole day Saturday to do as we pleased with no time restraints! Of course my logical decision was to drive past Chicago and visit the Bahá’í House of Worship because you know how much this atheist dick loves religious exploration.

I had only recently heard of this place: it’s one of only eight temples in the world dedicated to the Bahá’í faith, and allegedly the oldest one at that. From what I can tell, it’s a place to worship, open to all religions. Just some totally beautiful temple in Illinois, you guys. I immediately wanted to check it out because I am obsessed with looking at religious stuff—that’s when I turn into the ultimate tourist. It was always my favorite part of the European tours my family went on when I was a kid, too. (I wept in Assisi. I also had a really bad ear ache, but still. I straight-sobbed in front of a fucking monk.)

When I suggested this to Chooch, he was like, “That sounds dumb,” but then I showed him a picture and he was like, “YES, SIGN ME UP.” So Henry was officially out-numbered. But he didn’t put up much of a fight, maybe because he thought it could be a peaceful place to take a nap.

It took quite some time to get to Wilmette, thanks to the traffic outside of Chicago, but when we turned a corner and saw the temple looming ahead, we all agreed it was worth it already.

Unlike the Palace of Gold, there were a good bit of people there, people of all races and ages. I was worried for a second that perhaps Chooch was going to act a fool, but it was like the holy Bahá’í ghosts took over his body and he became restrained, filtered, and even a tad bit reverent.

I mean, how can you visit a place like this and not have your breath taken away, even just from an architectural aspect? Ugh, it was a sight to behold. I have absolutely nothing disparaging or shitty to say about anything or anyone we saw while there. So just enjoy these pictures of this magical spot in Wilmette, Illinois, because it was really something, you guys. God, is this what it feels like to be religious?!

The surrounding gardens made me feel like Alice in Wonderland. It was manicured to perfection.

There was no photography allowed inside the temple, so I made sure to turn my phone and shove it into my purse immediately because I am so afraid of getting yelled at by anyone in even the slightest authoritative role. And there were definitely temple people skulking around with their hands clasped behind their backs, ready to narc on someone for Snapchatting the temple’s guts or taking a church pew selfie. Chooch and I sat together in and gave ourselves neck-kinks from all the staring we did at the ceiling. Henry chose a seat at a safe distance away from us, probably because he didn’t want to be associated with us if one of us were to, say, spontaneously exorcise.

The grounds really inspired Chooch to get photographical, soccer mom-style with his tablet. He was pissed at one point because I supposedly “copied” one of his pictures.

LOL I totally did too.

Fucking Henry photobombed nearly every single one of the pictures, I hate him.

We out here, bitches.

These boats were right across the street from the temple. The whole area was so fucking quaint!

Back on the grounds, we checked out the information center, which had all kinds of…information. Also, a book store which I had hoped I could buy a magnet or a temple-shaped bottle opener, I don’t know.

“It’s probably just books,” Henry said, always the souvenir deterrent.

“No, I bet they at least have postcards and collectors spoons, BRB,” I said, barging into the bookstore.

It was just books. :(

And then we set off for Chicago (again) so we could check into our hotel. TO BE CONTINUED, OMG.

Let me tell you something about our road trips: they are woefully on-the-fly and stressful to the max. This wasn’t some last minute trip by any means, yet it still seemed like I was the only one packed and ready to go.

Because I was.

I took the day off work and everything, thinking we would leave as soon as Chooch was done with school, probably we would even swing by and throw him in the car on the way to Chicago rather than wait for him to walk the whole three blocks home.

But here’s what happened: Henry came home from work around 1pm and took a billion hour nap (even though I never let him sleep according to some people who apparently camp out in our bedroom closet and count his zzzzzz’s), and then Chooch came home from school and we just sat here wondering if we were ever going to leave or if we should just take an Uber to the airport and wing it.

Wing it, oh haha.

Henry eventually woke up and we left the house sometime around 4:30 (sigh) and then got swept up in some intense Labor Day traffic and it took us TWO HOURS just to get out of the dumb state. I was so fucking pissed.

But I was listening to Korean radio and that kept me from flipping my lid. And Chooch was reading some lame book for school so he was all nice and quiet too.

But then came the part of the trip that we all loathe: Food Foraging.

It shouldn’t be this hard! There are so many idiotic apps to help keep couples from splitting up/murdering each other over hunger wars. But every time Henry is like, “Find somewhere for us to eat” and I give him a dozen options, he’s always like, “WE’RE ON A TOLL ROAD! I CAN’T JUST TURN OFF ANYWHERE! THERE IS NO EXIT FOR ME TO TAKE!” and I’m like, “HELLO WHEN YOU TELL ME TO LOOK FOR A RESTAURANT, THAT IS LITERALLY JUST ONE THING TO CONSIDER: LOOKING FOR A PLACE THAT SERVES FOOD.” Now I’m supposed to read his mind (and a map!?) and find the most convenient grub shack for him to drive to? This is a lot of pressure. So then we had a huge fight about how demanding he is and how I need to learn to read a map and Chooch was like, “Oh, get over yourselves” and then we were going to just eat at a travel plaza but I threw a silent hissy fit inside and Henry was like, “LET’S ALL JUST STARVE! FUCKING STARVE!”

Luckily, I found some joint in some Trump-lovin’ town in Ohio, where a potato festival was going on and everyone was dressed for a rodeo, but Henry was all, “WE ARE NOT EATING HERE” because just a quick drive-by determined that it was some shady dive bar with an obligatory cigarette-smoking farmhand-looking son of a bitch slinking in the doorway. But just around the block was option #2: Jake’s.

Everyone inside knew each other of course, but I didn’t give a fuck because of all things for this rural shit-town in Ohio to have, there was a veggie burger on the menu. And not just any pre-packaged Boca Burger bullshit, but a HOMEMADE VEGGIE BURGER. Chooch and I both ordered that and the waitress was shocked because I guess it’s weird for someone to order something and then the next person to say, “Same”? Whatevs.

“You having the same thing too?” she asked Henry, tone slightly elevated.

But then Henry bucked the trend by ordering a plate of meat.

Anyway, the veggie burger was SO GOOD AND HOMEMADE-Y, but Chooch and I deducted points when we saw it was served on a fucking sandwich thin, like who does that? Henry’s burger was all snug inside a cushiony dough cloud and we were like, “WOW, THAT’S NICE. FUCKING VEGETARIAN PREJUDISTS!”

I might be inclined to stop back at Jake’s sometime to try their HOMEMADE PEANUT BUTTER PIE on for size.

After dinner I took some cliché pictures of the sunset because there was nothing else to do aside from talking to Henry and that’s just ew. I also played with filters on Snow, because I’m 15.

I wish my eyeballs were really that big, but I am already told occasionally that I look like a cartoon so why gild the lily, I guess.

Here is where shit gets really exciting: the sky was getting darker and darker and Henry STILL DID NOT HAVE A PLACE FOR US TO STAY. The plan was to drive to Indiana and get a hotel and then continue on to Chicago the next morning, but I guess Henry didn’t think to follow through with that plan by booking a hotel, so that’s cool, because you know—LABOR DAY WEEKEND. Finally, it was nearly midnight when Henry booked a “hotel” called the American Inn or something generic like that, right along the border of Indiana and Michigan. I don’t think I ever knew the name of the town but now Henry is saying, “Oh you know….um…uh, and the biker thing is always there…”

Sturgis.

Nope, I don’t know that, Henry.

Anyway, we get to the dumpy American Inn and Henry is told that they have NO VACANCY and that they “told booking.com as such” so they don’t know why we were able to book a room there. Henry came back out and called Booking.com, who looked up the information and laughed because they had NO RECORD of this asshole innkeeper ever calling them or logging into the account to mark it as sold out. So that’s great. But the lady on the phone was so nice and said that she was going to try and get permission from her manager to comp us a stay at another hotel in the area. She wanted to put us up at some nearly-$200/a night Best Western but Henry was hesitant to take her up on that because she wanted him to p at up front and then email them the receipt, at which point we’d be credited. Henry was like, “Fuck that” and found a Super 8 down the street with one room left, and it was only like $79, and bitch please, we don’t want to be spending a ton of money at a place that’s literally a pit-stop. Even I, Erin Rachelle Kelly, am capable of sucking it up for one night. However, the Super 8 ended up being very clean and pleasant! I was very impressed. We had two “doubles” though, which were more like twins, and that was not great, but whatever.

It’s a good thing that Henry didn’t take that booking bitch up on her Best Western offer because he woke up the next to an email from her saying that she was able to “comp the difference” if he emailed the receipt, so we still would have had to pay about $150!

I was so irritated about that. And at Henry for not planning ahead.

But here is where he would say something patronizing, such as, “YOU’RE WELCOME TO HANDLE IT ALL NEXT TIME!” And ew, I only handle the Roadside America portion of our road trips, thanks.

And this concludes a very boring post about our Friday Night Forever Drive.

So we’ve been in Chicago all weekend. I didn’t liveblog our drive here because it was boring, but now we’re leaving and I think I will keep my blog abreast of all actions because what else do I have to do other than talk Henry’s ear off about S.Korea. 

It’s 8:06am (Central time or whatever). We just checked out of the Chicago Loop Hotel (it was a decent headrest) and are now on the prowl for breakfast (for me: COFFEE). This trip was rife with highs and lows but mostly I’m sad to be leaving because there just isn’t ever enough time (read:money) to do everything we want to do in any city we visit. 

8:52am: We’re at Harvey’s in Hammond, IN and it is overflowing with local flavor. Two old guys are sitting at the counter, jawing each other’s ears off about the cost of eggs and toast, and the one guys doesn’t really like Chinese food that much and only eats it about once a month. I do like Chinese food and only eat it about 5 times a year, so…he’s all fired up about some Sheriff now and if CHOOCH KICKS ME UNDER THE TABLE ONE MORE TIME IM LEAVING HIM HERE TO BE HARVEYS NEW BUSBOY. 

Omg the one guy’s name is Chester. This rules. 

9:16am: This was the best (and cheapest) breakfast we’ve had on this trip yet. I had a veggie skillet and it was perfect and filling. And our waitress was so friendly! Hammond, Indiana is cool. 

Then Chooch and I started fighting because I took a picture of the front of the restaurant and he was all, “it’s just a regular restaurant!” in that belittling sneer-voice of his, so I yelled, “WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO CRITICIZE ME” and henry was like, “Peace out, new residents of Hammond, Indiana” as he locked the car door on us and sped away into the horizon without us. 

10:58am: Wow long time no typey-type, blog-thang. We made a pit stop at the Carmelite Shrine in Hammond, IN after wanting to visit for the last three years when we’ve been out this way for Riot Fest but they’re only open on Sundays. This time Henry called ahead and was assured it would be open but it WASNT and long story short (this means I’ll regurgitate about 2900 words about it in a later blog post), I batted my eyes and got a friar to open it for us and it was better than I ever could have dreamt. 

So much more on this later. My heart is like swollen with religion right now. 

Right after, we stopped at a gas station and the car next to us was blasting old-school Chiodos and basically our Indiana experience has been pretty solid this morning. 

12:53pm: Switched back over to EST a bit ago apparently. Every time henry drives over the ripple strip (I call them ripple strips, not rumble strips, LAY OFF ME) I get that sped up THE END IS NIGH heartbeat and I’m not a fan. 

Meanwhile we’ve been listening to Hot Beat on Arirang Radio (Korean — this is what we did during the whole drive here on Friday) and the two DJs were doing this Korean-English skit and I feel like I know Korean so much more now. Sike. I only picked up on the words you, please, I’ll have, cafe, no, what, hello. 

That feeling when you need to learn how to learn. 

Sigh. 

2:20pm: We’ve been listening to BIGBANG for like the last hour because it always cycles back to BIGBANG in my household, which always leads to me asking Henry what his favorite BiGBANG song is to which he faithfully replies “I’m not sure” and then my follow-up question is always “Is it Cafe?” and he says no and then I ask him if he even likes that song at all and he shrugs and mumbles “It’s OK.” Ugh!!

Seeing them perform this song live is on my bucket list, please don’t let BIGBANG be done, dear Lord. I should have lit a fucking candle at that Carmelite Shrine place but HENRY didn’t have $3 on him, fuck. 

2:35pm: I’m trying to get Chooch to guest blog about all the injuries he sustained on this trip, from getting accidentally* smacked in the maw by Henry to falling down the steps at Trump Tower (oh, there’s so much to be said for that).

*Honestly with the way he backtalks us, we actually owed him that one. 

Henry tortures us by making us keep the windows down instead of “wasting gas” by using the A/C and I real like a slowly roasting turkey. It’s fucking hot today. 

3:13pm: Well here we are in Wauseon(???), Ohio at Ryan’s Restaurant which boasts a parking lot sparklin’ with motorcycles and that indescribable but recognizable stench of filthy food grease. Mm. Henry is obsessed with the fact that “there is a lot of traffic for such a small town.”

They also cater though in case you have a quilting bee that needs food. 

As a coleslaw connoisseur, I can say with confidence and authority that this is one of the most flavorless globs of cabbage I’ve ever tasted which was directly unproportional with the toe-curling bouquet of fermented farts when the waitress sent the cups clattering down on our table. 

Final review of Ryan’s: food was as expected and the service was superior – our waitress was so accommodating without us even asking for anything! I really liked her. She asked us if we went to the fair and we just blankly said no because ugh small talk. 

“Maybe that’s why there’s so much traffic…” Henry mused when she walked away. Omg get over it, Henry. 

4:03pm: We just drove past a house with a Confederate flag flapping grotesquely from the porch. “You can tell exactly where we are,” Henry said.

4:24pm: Henry is droning on about how you can get a $200 fine for passing a cop that’s pulled over on the side of the road and I was interested for a millisecond but then blocked him out because I’d rather hear “Island” by Winner and we’re not even to Toledo yet, please someone send a plane for me. 

4:56pm: Interesting rest stop. I asked for soy milk at Gloria Jeans and the girl cut me off to say, “We don’t have non-dairy here.” Like wow it’s 2017 but ok cool. Then when my banana bread latte was done, she put it on the counter without a single word and gave me this intensely hateful stare. Meanwhile, Henry was washing his hands in the bathroom next to a guy who blurted out STARBUCKS and Chooch wasted more money. 

Ugh so in case we’re ever meeting at a cafe and I’m not there yet and you decide to be a dear and order my drink for me, 90% of the time, I get a soy latte, no flavor, no sugar, etc. Just in case you needed to know. However, I decided to try this banana nut bread latte at Gloria Jeans because it said it was a new menu item and holy shit it was like drinking straight syrup and I feel like I actually might puke out the car window right now. Thank god I only got a small. 

6:27pm: Still two more fucking hours to go and I want to cry. Chooch is being such a royal douche and Henry keeps sneezing so now I probably have SARS or whatever the current viral trend is. I have too much to keep up with! Like kpop comebacks and antique wheelchair auctions on eBay. 

But Chooch just saw a Lamborghini so now he’s happy. 

7:04pm: In case you care, Henry & I just discussed Trump overturning DACA (just in case there was anyone left who needed convinced that he’s the Greatest American Villain) and also Taylor Swift getting booed by her fans for not kissing their asses while she was trying to live a normal life long enough to be a bridesmaid in her friend’s wedding. We keep it balanced. 

7:26pm: Listening to Good Morning, Seoul analyze American coverage of North Korea’s nuclearization and then Henry and Chooch choose this moment to start talking about dumb shit and I’m like ARE U FUCKING KIDDING STFU. Guys you can just go ahead and say it: the US President is a fucking dipshit who is going to tweet us into a brand new world war. 

I hope that when that happens, the rest of the world remembers that Trump did not win the popular vote. 

8:02pm: hey guys we’re still driving but I am here to give an important message regarding liveblogs. Let me back up. We ate breakfast at some Greek joint on Saturday and I mentioned that it reminded me of another place we ate breakfast at in another city but I couldn’t remember where. I eventually whittled the memory down to a time that Chooch wasn’t with us, and from there I deduced that it must have been when we went to Maryland last year to see the Cure. “oh I’ll just check my blog then,” I said. But there is NOTHING on my blog, and then I remembered it was because I didn’t liveblog our drive home because this was the day after my eyeball almost fell out at the Cure show. Funnily though, I never even took a picture of my food (WHAT KIND OF ALIEN HAD TAKEN OVER MY BODY?!) so there’s no geo-tag anywhere and we can’t find anything on Yelp and the only other hope is reactivating Facebook to see if I checked in or looking through our bank statements but….we don’t really care that much. MORAL: sometimes liveblogging has worth, you guys. 

Lol, just kidding. No it doesn’t. 

In other news, Chooch’s favorite part of this trip was “hard to say, I don’t know” and Henry’s was “I don’t know I’ll have to think about it nothing really stands out.”

That’s fine because my favorite part doesn’t include either one of those of milquetoast duds (yes duds not dudes): it was the Taeyang concert! So so so good. 

8:44pm: Well we’re home now and I’ll tell you what’s really awesome is pulling onto the street and seeing a cop in front of our house and FUCKING PANICKING and then finding out that OUR NUTSO NEIGHBOR CALLED THE POLICE BECAUSE A CAR IS VERY MINUTELY BLOCKING THE DRIVEWAY. 

Now Henry is white knighting the neighbor who called the police because we should be happy that “someone is looking out” and I’m like SHE ISNT LOOKING OUT FOR ANYONE SHE JUST WANTS A REASON TO COMPLAIN. 

Welcome back to Brookline. 

<3<3<3

While everyone was eating, some Kennywood band started setting up near us and Haley said, “Yep, time to leave.” Thank god! I get so antsy when we sit for too long at amusement parks!

It was about 785 degrees out on this day, so hot and humid that Chooch and I were drenched in sweat just from sitting. Beads of perspiration rolled down my back in 5 second intervals and I internally cried to the gods, “WHY DID YOU MAKE MY SWEAT GLANDS SUCH OVERACHIEVERS?!” It’s just mean.

Our caravan began it’s slow stutter-walk toward Lost Kennywood. There was chatter about which ride we should go on, the Pirate Ship or the Phantom, and I personally didn’t want to go on the Phantom right that second because we had already ridden it, but the Phantom won out and I just had a feeling.

That sickening belly-nag.

The sky was starting to look straight-up foreboding, my friends. I half-expected that Kennywood guy sitting at the entrance of the line to say something about it, something like, “Yinz guys should go ride the Music Express or something because this bitch is getting shut down here rill soon n’ at.”

But nope, he just gave us blank looks and allowed us to pass.

The line was a lot longer than it was when Chooch and I rode it earlier with Henry, but we trudged along until we couldn’t go any further. This put us behind a young couple from one of the high school bands and at first I was like, “Aw, look at these band nerds in love” (I can say that because I was in band, too). Literally, they looked like they were normal people who were dressed up band geeks for Halloween. The girl especially looked like she had a hidden prettiness, like she was dying to star in a real life version of one of those predictable teen makeover movies. She’s All That, or if I want to date myself, SHE’S OUT OF CONTROL which starred Mickey Dolenz’s daughter! I saw that movie in the theater with my friend Spring and I thought it was so great and it gave me hope that someday I would grow out of my ugly duckling phase.

(Spoiler: I never did. Have you seen me?)

So back to the Phantom. These fucking kids went from “aw” to “awful” really fast. Their PDA was so out of control that I was starting to dig my fingernails into my palms. The boy kissed the girl after EVERY SENTENCE. These disgusting little kisses on her nose, lips, cheek, shoulder, neck, head. And then she would do it back and it was like being a fucking farm watching chickens peck at each other.

“I like water rides,” she said. *KISS*

“I like water rides too!” he said. *KISS*

“OMG we should go on a water ride!” *KISS*

“I agree!” *KISSKISSKISSKISSUGHFUCKYOU*

I tried to get Haley to switch spots with me but she was like, “Girl, I will fucking kill them.”

It was so out of control! Their conversation was so banal (because this is real life high school and not Dawson’s Creek where they look at the stars and talk about paradigms) and did not warrant such flagrant, superfluous affection, like each precious peck was some uncomfortable form of punctuation that English teachers omit from their curriculum because it’s gross. 

We moved up enough in line to where it was almost time to pick which car we wanted to sit in and then get in the appropriate line. Blake asked where I wanted to go and I was like FAR AWAY FROM THESE OVERACTIVE LIPSMACKERS OVER HERE.

But as it turns out, we wouldn’t have a chance to go any further because an announcement was made saying that the Phantom was temporarily shutting down due to the approaching storm.

MOTHERFUCKER.

This was after about 30 minutes of already standing in line!

Some people opted to stay and wait it out, but we turned around and went to find Henry and Calvin, who had taken pre-shelter under a pavilion of Pedro’s Tacos, which was closed and now that I think about it, I don’t think I have ever seen that place open.

Henry the Meteorologist kept checking some storm tracker map thing and pointed out that it looked like it was going to be OK once this storm came through, that the rest of the day should be all clear. There were other storms behind the first one that was approaching us but Henry pointed out that it looked like they were going to pass around our location.

All of a sudden, the rain fell and people started screaming like it was acid dropping from buckets. We just laughed because come on, guys. It’s rain. This went on for several minutes, with more and more people squeezing into the pavilion with us. I turned my back for a second and got doused with what felt like a really rough wave, and everyone started SCREAMING and pushing each other further into the pavilion. I had no idea what was going on, but garbage cans had fallen over and were rolling violently along the wet ground, and the rain was coming down in what appeared to be curtains at this point.

We were right across from the Pittsburgh Plunge, which is a water ride, and I very naively thought that some sort of tidal wave had been created in the pool of water at the bottom of it and that’s what had hit us, but Henry was like, “No, stupid, the wind was so strong that it was making the rain fall sideways.”

It was intense! And of course this feels like a string of nonsense in light of Hurricane Harvey.

Some dumb bitch was standing near me, coddling her crying son who looked like he was at least 9, and loudly saying things like, “I KNOW, I KNOW. I HATE CROWDS! PEOPLE ARE SUCH IDIOTS” like excuse me, we’re all trying to stay safe here, and I personally didn’t witness any shoving or general jackassery.  Dumb bitch—your kid is basically an adult at this point, get a grip. Meanwhile, Haley was standing behind her, calmly holding Calvin and not panicking or shouting passive aggressive insults at everyone who wasn’t paying enough attention to her.

That lady was already under my skin before the rain even started falling because her face was a moving billboard of angry expressions.

After the storm, there was nothing to do but eat and play games. I remember back in the day, only certain rides would get shut down when it rained and then they would pretty much fire back up as soon as the storm passed.

“Yeah, but then that microburst blew the roof off the Whip and some lady sued,” Henry said.

“Someone sued for real?” I asked.

“Probably,” Henry shrugged. A logical assessment.

The greatest part though was that it cooled down so beautifully and felt like a brisk fall day. I wanted a maple latte badly though. 

I love/hate when they play games. On one hand, there is always something cute that I want them to win for me, but on the other hand, that’s S. Korea money going right down the shitter.

The fish pond is my favorite game! I love how it smells, and I love the sound the metal hook makes when it connects with one of the chunky plastic fish cruising on by with the “current.” It’s one of the things that hasn’t changed about Kennywood since I was a kid and I appreciate that so hard.

This girl was not amused by Chooch’s uncertainty and indecisiveness when it came to choosing fish to hook and I was waiting for her to reach in with her hand and pick for him. I feel like if you’re working one of those games, that one especially since it’s such a kid-centric game, you should have a more docile, friendly disposition?

I wanted Chooch to pick a plush popsicle, but he chose a cupcake instead. I was really disappointed but when he declared that he was giving it to Calvin, the disappointment was replaced with pride because no one made him do this, and it was basically the first time in three months that he acknowledged Calvin’s existence!

<3

Blake won a small pink poop for Calvin. 

An hour later, it started POURING again while we played the shooting game, which is also where I got angry at Henry because he will never properly teach me how to aim and I never hit any targets!

It was 3:00 by this point and we had basically done fuck-all, when a speaker crackled, followed by, “This is the voice of Kennywood….”

The park was officially closing at 4pm because an entire of fleet of storms was still en route to the area. 

SAD TUBA FOR REAL. 

But the upside is that we got rain tickets for next year! 

We still stayed put under an awning because it was torrentially downpouring and no one wanted to walk through that to the gate. This was how I learned courtesy of Haley that if you run through rain, you get more wet!

IS THAT TRUE?!

The rain slowed down long enough for Henry, Chooch and me to speedwalk to Goldent Nugget to grab ice cream cones for the crew but THEY WERE DONE SERVING ICE CREAM FOR THE DAY. 

WHYYYYY!?

I had to text Janna and tell her to JUST FORGET IT because she was going to meet us there after work. This could have been such a great day! We had the perfect group! But then HENRY made us go left instead of right AND LOOK WHAT HAPPENED. 

I never noticed this fire hydrant before. 

All was not lost though because Chooch ended up winning this plush unicorn on the way out, and Haley (who had craved candy apples during her whole pregnancy) snagged the last candy apple in the candy store by the exit. 

Small victories!

In conclusion, shitty weather but excellent company. 

I bet those fucking band dorks spent the whole afternoon kissing raindrops off each other ugh I’m so glad I never saw them again.