Chicago: Big-City Birthday

I'm headed down memory lane again, this time on a family trip to Chicago to mark Gabe's 11th birthday.

The following was originally published on The Courier's travel blog On the Road.

Chicago: Big-City Birthday

In early August 2007, I clambered into the Yukon -- the only leather-padded, reclining way my father was willing to travel -- with one Daddy, one son and four diet Cokes to drive through the night from Whitehouse, Ohio, to Chicago. I have made this trip several times, and I must say: Driving at night with just a few random semi-trucks is the way to go, provided you can stay awake or have the blessed chance to chat with your usually reticent papa for five straight hours.

We descended upon my mother -- in town as a voting member of the ELCA Churchwide Assembly -- at the Hyatt Regency at 151 E. Wacker St. at 3 a.m. like gypsies, complete with brown paper bags under our arms. (I was mortified to discover my father had packed his toiletries in such a manner but was thankful the ungodly hour presented only one pair of valet eyes to behold them. I paid him $5 to keep quiet.)

I would rarely do this, but our hotel really was beautiful: Click here for a slideshow of images, although only the first few showcase the impressive atrium. My son, Gabe, was less impressed. There was no swimming pool anywhere in this sky-scraping multi-towered building, and he was unsuccessful in brow-beating us into paying the "discount" $25 access to an athletic facility a block away just to go swimming.

Gabe and Dad brave the komodo dragon entrance to
Shedd Aquarium, a nod to a 2007 special exhibit.

Instead we took him to Shedd Aquarium, where everything from frogfish to beluga whales were swimming around. The periodic dolphin shows are wonderful, although the aim is more educational science and less theatrical Sea World. The best part about the show in the Oceanarium is the illusion provided by the building's ingenious circular design, situated right on Lake Michigan; the dolphin pool spills over the edge near windows that provide an endless view of water. There are more than just aquatic creatures among the 24,000-plus animals here, including birds, spiders and the weirdest looking shield-tail agama I've ever seen in the Lizards and the Komodo King exhibit. We had a wonderful lunch right there at Shedd's fine dining restaurant, Soundings, which features sustainable seafood and locally grown organic produce. I had the best seat in the house, in the corner with windows that overlooked both the lake and the downtown skyline.

After lunch we headed just down the street to Adler Planetarium, where we tilted our heads back and rested our exploding knee caps during a most instructive lecture on constellations. Admittedly this place held more interest for my son, who turned 11 that very day, than either myself or my dad. Gabe would have gladly stayed there all day, especially once he found the robotic moon rover that visitors can program by computer and then watch roll over rocks and bump into walls.

That's a root beer Gabe is drinking
at the bar at Ditka's restaurant.

But he was turning 11 after all, and such a momentous occasion called for a fantastic experience at Mike Ditka's, the former Bears coach's restaurant. While one does not have to check her ovaries at the door, this is truly a man's man kind of place, with sumptuous yet muted decor, dark wood detailing, and sports-themed artwork everywhere. Waiting for my mother to arrive after a day of national church business, Dad and Gabe sat at the bar sipping scotch and micro-brewed root beer, respectively, while I accidentally spilled the best $12 dirty martini with blue cheese-stuffed olives I've ever had all over my birthday boy. What a milestone -- his first alcohol abuse. Upstairs the attendant in the women's room helped clean us both up, and when we returned to the bar there were complimentary replacement drinks awaiting us, "on the Coach." Upon my mother's arrival, we were comfortably seated in one of the smaller dining rooms and waited on by efficient, courteous staff. We enjoyed pot roast nachos, lobster bisque and steaks even better than our own farm-raised beef. My son ordered, and devoured, calamari and rack of lamb. That's how you celebrate 11.

We would have enjoyed the nearby observatory in the John Hancock building -- one of the five attractions on our City Passes, THE way to do tourist-type things and save money -- but we were too full, too tired and too loaded down with hats and T-shirts from the restaurant gift shop. Instead we chatted with the valet as we waited for our truck, learning that our night was a rare exception to Mike Ditka's typical presence at the restaurant. The fireworks exploding over the city that night weren't really arranged for Gabe's birthday; a display is presented over Navy Pier every Wednesday and Saturday night during the summer.

The next day we visited Field Museum and the most complete T. rex skeleton in the world: Sue. We probably could have spent six or seven days exploring the myriad exhibits here, but we made do with dinosaurs, Egyptian mummies and dirt. Yes, dirt. We were "shrunk" to microscopic size and plunged into a tunnel for a bug's-eye view of what's underground and learned about beetles, roots and conservation.

Gabe admires a stained glass piece
honoring Martin Luther King Jr.

For lunch, we went to Navy Pier via water taxi, providing a welcome breeze and water spray in such sweltering heat. We took "Gotta Go" there and "Wai Wai" on the way back; after seeing another boat named "Andale," I suppose the whole fleet is christened for whatever means "get me there quick." We met my mother for yummy fare at Riva's Cafe and then enjoyed a stroll through the magnificent Smith Museum of Stained Glass Windows. We shopped a little, but it was mostly overpriced tourist kitsch and we bypassed it all.

While Dad rested at the hotel, Gabe and I walked across the Chicago River to the Tribune Tower, one of my personal must-sees in the Windy City. Designed to be the "most beautiful office building in the world" in a 1922 contest, its cathedral silhouette is formed with stones plucked from famous sites all over the world. But more importantly, carved into the walls of the newspaper lobby are several quotes pertaining to the freedom of the press and the importance of watching one's government like a junkyard dog. I made Gabe read every single one.

We then flitted down Michigan Avenue, the "Miracle Mile," the Land of Serious Shopping. We picked up some birthday gifts at the Lego store, which was impressively stacked with life-sized statues of R2-D2 and Darth Vader made completely from Lego bricks, and a thank-you gift at Hugo Boss for our family farm sitter tending dogs, cats, goats and "all creatures, great and small."

As only an 11-year-old boy can, Gabe fixates on the plop
of poop a Lego bird left on this Lego man's jacket.

We then bid my mother adieu and headed back east, regrettably through daytime traffic and construction delays. Chicago is a notorious pain to navigate, but I have been remarkably lucky -- and decidedly aggressive while driving a big truck -- and have always gotten through there just fine.

My only caveat: This was an expensive trip. Apart from the elevated train, which my father wasn't about to get on, or walking, which my father wasn't capable of doing, getting around town is pricey, especially when you're using the valet everywhere you go. At least the water taxi was fun too. But such an expense is SO much better than driving around trying to find a parking place. We of course took the standard tourist approach to the city, which is solely purposed for making a lot of money, but it was an easy way to keep three generations happy at once. I've hung out in Chicago before with far fewer funds and still had a good time, but I'm glad to have had this kind of experience as well.

Still, it's only a teeny fraction of what Chicago has to offer. Art museums can be one vacation all to themselves. Funky ethnic neighborhoods, lake cruises, sporting events and deep dish pizza are also signature experiences. Gabe has decided that each double-digit birthday (11, 22, 33, etc.) should be declared a "Big City Birthday," and I bet he just might find himself in Chicago again one day. I hope we're invited.