Wrigleyfest, day 2

7:00: Got up on time again. I always wake up early on vacation when I have to be somewhere. (Actually, that's true at home too. If I'm traveling, I will be on time.) Wrestled with the time to get up before I went to bed, though ... decided on 7 because 6, while getting me close to Murphy's around 9, would get me there early. Not helpful. Plus, even though the gates open at 10:05, we don't have to be the first in line, or even in line, as long as we get a section.

Back to the station, confirmed the first lot is 4-hour parking all the time, parked close by, waited for the train ... 10- to 15-minute delay ... and got on board. Finished the book, off the train, out to Adams Street (which puts you on the block of State where the entrance to the Red Line is; Jackson takes you to the exit), and up toward Wrigley.

10:00: Into Murphy's, greetings to the other people there, and a brief wait during which we saw Captain Morgan and his party taking his chest ... somewhere. (Rather a desultory group, but then I would guess hanging around with a liquor mascot is not a high-paying job.) A few people go in and mark off our section; shortly thereafter, they ask for reinforcements, so a couple other guys head in with me.

For those who don't know, bleacher seating in Wrigley is general admission. Saving seats is expected – nay, encouraged, because after all you don't want to go with a group of 20 and sit all over the place – but there is a certain code. Most people abide by it, and the staff will generally support it. You need a reasonable ratio of people to seats, and if people don't show up by the first inning or so, the staff will make you bunch up and make room for those who are there. Now, once you have the seats, they're yours for the game, and it's rare that people will try to poach your seats when you're up getting beer or food or whatever (beer vendors do not visit the bleachers any more, which is probably a good thing).

We had 39 people, I think, so we took a block 11 seats by 4 rows, with one corner of 4 seats going to people who beat us there. (It was funny when two of the guys whom we had yet to see were making their way down to the front. We were trying to explain that we had this section, and they didn't say anything because they already had their stuff there ... it was cleared up quickly, and they were cool about it, but it was still funny.)

12:05: First pitch. With overcast skies, there were no paratroopers and no pregame flyovers. (In fact, the air show made very few appearances due to visibility issues.) Fortunately for light-skinned people whose sunscreen ran out in the middle of applying it, the clouds would last most of the day, thus preventing even more sun damage.

Cubs take an early lead, albeit 12 runs smaller than Friday, and hold on for another win. They're now 7-0 in official (Saturday) Wrigleyfest games.

3:00: We head out of Wrigley and west ... the street fair we visited last year is on again, so we figure we'll hit that. There's a cover band there, Wedding Banned, that some people really wanted to hear. I figure I'll hang out for a while, then head back to the hotel and crash.

3:45: Apparently the street fair is farther away than we realized. (The locals knew about where it was, but not exactly.) We stop outside a bar in some confusion ... a manager/waiter/employee overhears us and confirms that the fair is up ahead on the right a couple of blocks. This was farther than some people planned to walk, so we stopped in for a quick drink. While in the bar, we find out that some of the group who'd headed off in another direction are already there, so we finish up and go to meet them.

4:30: The street fair is much smaller than last year. Instead of three blocks, it's barely one. A few food and drink tents, a few merchandise tents, and the stage, and that's it. We eat (pretty good food, and cheap too: $4.50 for a half an 8" pizza and a can of Diet Coke) and wait.

5:30: The band is pretty decent. As you'd guess from their name, they play a lot of popular rock and assorted other songs, so basically just the stuff I like. I think there was maybe one song I didn't know that well, and I still knew what it was and who sang it.

Unfortunately, not everyone is a fan. A few people were making noise about heading out early to the next stop (a private club where one of the locals is a member), but they stuck it out. A few other people head back to their hotels, some to return later, some not.

Some people go to the stage (and apparently on the stage at some point); I stay with the conversational group. We've commandeered a tent that was apparently for some kind of health club/spa/something. Hey, nobody was using it ... at one point, I'm talking to one of the women in the group (friend of a friend; not many women play online sports sims) and discover that she thought I was 25 or so. As Ice Cube once said, today was a good day.

7:15: The encores are done, the party regroups, and the next step is planned. Remembering that trains are every two hours now, I get advice on the best way back toward downtown and head for a Brown Line train. Luckily, there's a stop just a couple of blocks away, and a few minutes later, the train shows up. (That was actually slow for me this weekend: today, I got to the Jackson Street station just in time to get on the Red Line.)

8:00: The advice was excellent. The Brown Line runs closer to Union Station than the Red Line, so I'm there in plenty of time. Of course, so are 200 other people who've been downtown and are heading home. Fortunately, our train boards before the other one. As a "veteran", I head almost to the end of the train and get a car all to myself. (Most people who are unfamiliar with the train will get on as soon as they can, particularly if they're accustomed to the L. Those trains take off quickly; these don't. You've got plenty of time to board.)

Naturally, the car fills up eventually, but it's not a big deal. I wait, and eventually we're in motion.

9:25: The train arrives in Itasca. I wave goodbye to my good friend Metra, exchange smiles with a pretty blond on my way back to the car, and head back to the hotel. Clean up, take care of things, and it's off to sleep.

I'll leave reasonably early in the morning, but for now I'm just enjoying another busy weekend in Chicago. I'm very comfortable visiting ... if things had turned out differently, I probably could have lived here, but I'm happy where I am now.

I spend a little time working on staff for Cambridge City, and then it's off to sleep.

Wrigleyfest, day 1

8:00: Got up on time, left the hotel with plenty of time to spare. Completely missed the $1.50-per-day signs in the two good parking lots, saw only the "reserved parking" sign in the third, and ended up driving around for 20 minutes until I found parking outside the commuter zone (4-hour limit). No big deal, but I'll know for next week year. (The 4-hour limit is Monday through Friday.)

Got my ticket, hopped on Metra, read the first half of my book, reached Union Station. On to the street, east on Jackson, onto the Red Line and north.

11:00: Met the first person at Murphy's. (This trip is so different when you aren't drinking.) Next guy shows up, then the last two, and we go in. Mental note: put contraband in your pockets. If you have a bag, they don't bother with the rest of it. (I had my trusty Xbox 360 messenger bag, primarily for two things: sunscreen and aforementioned book. I'll get burned this weekend, but not without a fight.)

11:40: Seated in left field with plenty of time remaining in Pirates BP, and it was worth it. Several balls hit onto Waveland, a few in the bleachers in each section. None very close to us, which was good. On a scale of 1 to 10 in terms of protection, the people in front of us were about a 2. (A 10 means there's a guy who used to play outfield, so he's catching line drives for you. A 1 means that you're actually better off with no one in front of you, because this person will either deflect the ball into your face or duck at the last minute. No possible chance of catching it.) I know enough not to catch line drives, but I don't want a fly bouncing off my head.

1:00: Paratroopers. One first, then six later. Very cool.

1:20: Flyovers. Many of them. Also very cool. I love it when the air show is in town.

Cubs put 4 up in the first, 7 more before an out is recorded in the second, 3 more after that. Yeah, 14-0 after two, I think it's in the bag. 17-2 was the final. There was really no suspense. The scenery was decent, and I shared a bit of conversation with a woman who sat down next to us in the third or fourth inning. (Probably about my age, definitely a fake fan: they stayed about three innings and moved on, either to find younger guys or to find the party they were heading to after the game.)

4:30: Back to the Red Line, which was very much not crowded, surprisingly so. One guy gets off early for his hotel, the other one stays on til Jackson with me, and we walk back to Union Station. I head for the Metra counter and he heads back to his hotel; we'll reconvene tomorrow.

4:55: I get my one-way ticket (sigh, weekend passes are good only Friday and Saturday) and make a crucial mistake. I do not check to see which trains stop in Itasca. Sadly, the one I catch does not. I find this out by listening to the list of stops. At this point, it's started to move, so I can't get off. I hit the Metra website and determine that it's about 2.7 miles from Roselle to Itasca. No biggie, I'll walk. Lesson for next time.

6:45: Back at the hotel room; of course no tickets on my car. Chicago and surrounding area is pretty good at telling you where you can't park. No signs usually means no problem. (I did have to instruct one driver on the meaning of a green arrow. Apparently he felt that because there were two lanes, he could turn right into his lane and I was to turn left into mine. I pointed out that I had a green arrow and therefore he could either stop or hit me. He chose to explain his point of view, complete with gestures ... but apparently his wife/girlfriend/better half/conscience pointed out the error of his ways rather quickly, because he slowed down immediately and stayed well back of me. Normally if they think it's your fault, they speed around you. Yeah, I had the arrow, so suck it. And yes, that's how I drive in Chicago. Who doesn't?) Time enough to get cleaned up, check Facebook (what, it's down? Oh, there it goes), change clothes (jeans and nicer tennis shoes – hey, the rest of the gang just got done golfing) and map out my route to Texas de Brazil.

8:00: Strangely, none of the golfers are here. I make a trip through the mirrored dining room (always a weird experience), confirm this, and wait in the lobby. One comes in and recognizes my shirt (a What-If Sports shirt; I'm no fool, they'll recognize me even if I don't recognize them). Then the rest of the party shows up, and Meatfest begins.

9:45: We win, as usual. After three or four good passes, the servers slow down, then eventually disappear. Just as well, I probably ate half as much as I did last year and don't feel bad at all. (I intended to eat less this year anyway.) Check is paid, we go our separate ways. Back to the hotel for a few more days of WSM, a few checks on Facebook, and rest for tomorrow. (9:00 at Murphy's? Try 10. All I need to do is be there early enough to help wait in line.)

Wrigleyfest, day 0

4:30 or so: Arrived at the hotel. Got a room on the top floor, very cool (it's a Starwood Preferred Guest floor, don't you know). The exercise facility is on this floor, not that I will need it. I gots walking to do.

I looked for vending machines (none on this floor) and guests upon whom I could look down. None so far.

Spent about 45 minutes not planning my itinerary for tomorrow and Friday.

Google: Hey dude, you should totally do this: take Metra to here (but ask the conductor to let you off), then catch this bus, then that bus, and you're like there. But on the way back, take this other bus first, then this other bus, and then go back from this other station. Cool, k?

Me: How about I take the Metra to Union Station, walk a few blocks, and take the Red Line north?

Google: oh. right.

See, Metra is the key. Buses and trains come by often, but Metra only runs hourly during the times I'll be using it (unless I miss the 6:40 again and spend two hours in Union Station), so it doesn't really matter if I try to knock 15 minutes off my trip by taking buses. I'll arrive in plenty of time by taking the Red Line, so that's what I'm doing.

I might have to check out this new Chicago Card thing. My CTA card expires in December anyway ... have to remember that there is an agent on Friday at the Itasca station. (It's $2 more if you buy on the train when you could have bought from an agent. Last year, I didn't take the train on Friday.)

7:30: Headed out to grab a sandwich and stuff, back to the room, but up the stairs, oh yes. 22 flights. (12th floor, remember.) Short flights, but flights nonetheless. So that justifies my Spicy Italian rather than Oven Roasted Chicken Breast. (I did not get cookies, either. I did, however, pick up three of my protein bars for breakfast Friday through Sunday, and at only a slight markup from the prices at home.)

Two wedding receptions in the hotel this weekend. Interesting. Too bad I left my "perfect for attracting guests attending a wedding reception at a fancypants hotel" outfit at home. However, if they like baseball caps and shorts, I'm in.

8:05: Footlong sandwich gone. Guess I was hungry. (I hadn't eaten since lunch ... when away from home, I tend to ignore hunger unless it's convenient to eat. Saves money that way.) Now off to Worldwide Soccer Manager 2009 to finish the current season. The ungrateful sods at Hyde fired me with less than a month to go because I couldn't assemble strikers out of soda cans and glue. My replacement has led them down one more spot in the table, including a loss to a rival whom we beat when I was in charge. Good luck, guys ...