Can I Masturbate in Your Shower? Pt 3: “Chicago”

All I could think about was what a sucker I was.

You fly across the country then take a commute train called the “L” (which somehow stands for ‘eLevated’, which doesn’t make a whole lot of “E” (‘sEnse’)), then walk a few blocks in the pouring rain and you’re there.

It’s a bean.

It’s pretty big and very metallic. The bean has it’s own gift shop which I imagine sells bean related souvenirs.  Unfortunately, said gift shop was closed for the season because, apparently like skiing, looking at a giant metallic bean is a seasonal activity.

What kind of self-respecting tourist would come see a thing like this, I wondered?  In the pouring rain no less?  It was then that I caught my reflection in the bean.  In the reflection I also noticed that I was the only idiot in all of Chicago at the bean.

I’m serious.


Why was I standing in the rain looking at a bean?

The raindrops pelting my head were like rhythmic knocking from mother nature wondering if any brain cells were home.   I waited out the rain underneath a small overhang instead of walking to one of the numerous coffee shops a block away.  Soon after, my brain was foreclosed upon.

For some background, my brain and body went 12 rounds with alcohol in college and I was back for a highly anticipated rematch.  The plan was to lube up my liver in Chicago on Halloween then head to Bloomington for the main event. But until my friend Rob got off work it was just me and the bean.

Rob promised I could crash and possibly beat off at his apartment, which was hella tight of him.  I didn’t beat off before we went out to the bars that night because, as my British friend says, “it’s important to keep the lead in the pencil.”

I went out dressed as a cat for Halloween, because why should girls have all the  easy costumes?  Rob went as Clark Kent so he basically wore a suit, and his friend Mike (weird coincidence right? lol) also went as some iteration of a guy in a suit.  At the bars we looked like a couple dudes that just got off work and one dude that just finished working some guys’ cock in the back alley.

We met up with some unicorns, hamburgers, and obnoxious Jay Cutler fans, and  got really really drunk which was awesome.

The next morning, eager to make the most of my last few hours in Chicago, I slept until noon, grabbed a burger, then left.

Actually, I did go to the top of Willis Tower which used to be called the Sears Tower which used to be the tallest building in the western hemisphere but isn’t anymore.  It cost $18.  It wasn’t worth every penny.

On our way to Bloomington we passed through South Chicago, which is basically a firing range without the targets and earmuffs.  Those people, mostly black, got royally fucked over a bunch of years ago and were relegated to the shittiest part of the city to make way for Starbucks, the bean, and gathering spots for white people to talk about how it’s “the Cubs’ year.”

The best part of Chicago was the food,  not because it’s any good but because it’s cheap as shit.  I got a hot dog, fries and a drink for less than five bucks.  In San Francisco it would’ve been $5 cover to get inside the restaurant.

In all seriousness Chicago was an awesome city, probably top 5 in the country.  But unfortunately it just doesn’t have nearly as many homeless people as San Francisco, rude people as New York, douchebags as LA, or sweltering heat as Austin TX.

So until next time, go fuck yourself bean.

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