MON OURS POLAIRE.

I managed to get several hours of restful slumber on the flight across the pond. The subway took me from JFK into the belly of the beast. It felt bizarre to start my "morning" at midnight in New York City. Luckily this metropolis is known as the city that never sleeps. I quickly located a pizza joint. Two jumbo slices later and I had silenced my grumbling tummy. There were several hours to kill before my train departed, so I sought sanctuary at a nearby pub. After a few Guinnesses, I made my way to Moynihan Train Hall. Several rats greeted me as I waited to board the early morning Amtrak. Boarding was a clusterfuck, but we left the station in a somewhat timely manner. Every second was precious, and I could not miss this flight.

Less than an hour later, I arrived in Philadelphia. Flying from JFK to ORD was ungodly expensive for some odd reason. Taking a flight from PHL to MDW was only seventy bucks and had the perfect morning departure time (relative to my convoluted travel itinerary). When I arrived at the airport, my heart sank to the bottom of my stomach. The TSA line was three hundred people deep. It was five in the morning! How could this be possible? There was no chance that I was going to make this flight. The travel gods blessed me because that line moved freakishly fast, and I showed up right as they were boarding my flight. Relaxation washed over me as soon as I sat in my seat.

I had roughly two hours to recharge my body before touching down in Chicago. That stellar subway system took me to Lincoln Park, where my former college roommate now resided. Grant had agreed to host me for a few days before my triumphus return to the motherland. After unpacking my things, I decided to get my workout in. I ran straight to Lincoln Park Zoo to visit my favorite polar bear. Several years ago, I visited Chicago and was introduced to this guy. He brought joy to my life at a time when I struggled to find it. It was a pleasure to see my buddy again, and he brought a massive smile to my face. My next stop was Navy Pier, where I did my calisthenics under the Ferris wheel. After a brief stop at the famous Cloud Gate, I routed myself back to G's place and jumped into the shower. We quickly found ourselves at a German Beer hall in his neighborhood and caught up over some steins. We went to Bucktown to meet up with C-man, another former housemate from our college days. It had been forever since we had all been together, and it was a glorious reunion.

My morning run took me to a downtown coffee spot. After calming my caffeine craving, I ran to the kingdom of my archenemies. Later that day, there was a ball game, and I loved seeing the calm before the storm. Wrigleyville was void of life, and the stadium crew was commencing the pregame setup. After my run, we met at a brunch spot near the stadium. Our next move was to head to a bar with batting cages on the top level. We decided to wait out the first few innings before buying cheap bleacher tickets. Luckily the 100 level was not too crowded, and we easily snuck in. It had been a while since I attended the old ballgame. Unwinding with a few brews and watching the Cubbies get a spanking was quite enjoyable. Grant and I spent the remainder of the evening chilling. The best moment was our nightime stroll around the more affluent parts of Lincoln Park.

The famous Goose Island was my destination for this morning's run. This historically rich part of Chicago looked to be forgotten about. You see, I was searching for the Goose Island Brewery, known to me for its beautifully crafted IPAs. To my surprise, it was not on the island itself but close enough to bear the name. After paying tribute to this flavor fulfiller, I returned to homebase. When I was cleaned up, Grant and I headed back to Wrigleyville. There was another game that day, and hella homies were pregaming. I was able to hang out for a few drinks and catch up with the squad. My sleep deprivation finally caught up, so I decided to sneak a quick nap. That evening we continued the merriment with a bowling excursion and some more bar hopping. It was a successful last night in the Chi.

Grant had informed me about this area of town known as Fulton Market. I decided to give it a visit while completing my morning cardio. After my excursion, the kitchen was calling my name. With few resources, I managed to whip up a suitable breakfast for us. It was time to go to the train station, and Grant was kind enough to give me a lift. One last train ride later, and I was returned to the motherland. Crossing that legendary Mississippi River always makes me feel at home again. My parents graciously grabbed me from the station in Osecela. It had been roughly a year since I had been back to Iowa. Pair that with four months of vagabonding, and it was safe to say that I was happy to be home. It is always a pleasure to be back in the shire, but the adventure will certainly continue.