Chicago - Saturday

Hey ho, here we go again. As I’m feeling crap. I take a cab to Schiphol. Something I don’t usually do. On the way back from the airport, yes. Then I’m often tired from an overnight trip. On the way out, I’m supposed to be fresh.

I arrive 3.5 hours before flight. I’m not checking in a bag. I still don’t trust them with my luggage. So, straight to security. Where it takes 15 minutes to get through. It’s usually much quicker than that. The standard queue looks brutal. At least an hour, is my guess.

I’m travelling with my Dutch passport again. Well, both passports, as the ESTA is on my UK one. Showing them my Dutch passport saves me the questions I’d get from the border guards: “How long have you been in the Netherlands?” Such an annoyance, having lived here for more than three decades.

Where do I go next? The lounge, of course. That’s one of the reasons I got here so early. To make sure I get a couple of hours in the lounge. What to drink? It has to be whisky. And whiskey. My usual Teachers and Jack Daniels. Not mixed, of course. I’m not a philistine.

I have a few whiskies and read a bit of Private Eye. Nothing to eat, as I’m not hungry. And I’ll be fed on the plane.

“Don’t go crazy, Ronald.” I can hear Dolores say in my head. When did I go crazy? Apart from that time in Hong Kong when I woke up covered in blood. That aside, I’ve never gone crazy. Not that I can recall.

I’m doing some pretty impressive coughing, even for me. Someone who coughs at international level. Those sitting around me in the plane are going to be so happy.

When I get to the gate, the plane is just about to start boarding. Perfect. No pointless hanging around. “Do not board” it says when my boarding card is scanned. I have to go to another agent. Who waves me through. What was all that about?

 
I get settled into my seat, 20H.

After sitting there for a few minutes, a bloke come up and says that I’m in his seat. He has the boarding pass to prove it: 20H. You what? I reserved this seat weeks ago. Then one of the cabin crew comes over and says: “Mr. Pattinson. You’ve been upgraded to economy premium.”

That’s nice. I get a better seat and more legroom. Not going to complain.

I notice the menu lists spirits. They don’t have them in normal cattle class. Not since the pandemic. I get myself a whisky. It’s a decent-sized, poured shot. None of that miniature rubbish.

I watch some crappy films. In Good Company. Gazillionaires. Other rubbish. Comedies that fail to raise a single smile. But which pass the time. Along with coughing. I’m really hitting my peak. In terms of both length and intensity. A pity this isn’t a competition. I’d be well out in front.

Not too much queueing at immigration, thankfully. And no waiting for a bag, as I didn’t check one in.

I’m supposed to be meeting Derek Prentice [legendary brewer who worked at Truman, Youngs and Fullers; currently at Wimbledon] at Exit A. Of course, I’ve come out of Exit B. Where is A? I’m still looking for it when Derek spots me. That was easy.

We’ve an appointment with Mike Stein [brewer at Goose Island] at the pub Bangers & Lace at 16:30.

We jump in a taxi and are soon bumping along the sunlit motorway. It’s a lovely day. Not such a lovely day for traffic. We periodically slow to a crawl. Is it me, or is the traffic in US cities getting even worse?

The driver has a bit of trouble finding the address, as many shops don’t display their number. I spot it on the corner.

It’s such a nice day that the outside tables are all full. Inside it is, then. The pub is long and slender, with an attractive stamped tin ceiling. Time for a beer, I think. What to get? The chalk board behind the bar just lists brewery and beer name. No mention of style.

When my Phase Three Pixel Density arrives, I realise that not checking on the style before ordering was a big mistake. It’s a glass of sludge. Sludgy as sludge can be. Very fruity with some bitterness. Sweet up front, harshly bitter at the back. Not my type of beer.

Derek wisely opts for a Dovetail Hefeweizen.

The crowd is very young. Which probably explains the punk music. Me and Derek are the oldest punters by more decades than I care to count.

After checking that it was a West Coast IPA, I order a Maine Mo. It’s not a big improvement. There’s a weird bitter taste. Not great.

I’m still scowling at Mo when Mike turns up. We finish our beers – me through gritted teeth – and he drives us to the flat where we’ll be staying.

It’s a long, thin affair, a corridor running its length. Some rooms are rather gloomy, with the next house about a metre away from the window. On the plus side, a well-equipped kitchen and big American fridge. Which will come in handy, as.

Mike has brought us all the essentials: bacon, eggs, bread and coffee. And beer, of course. We wouldn’t last long without that. There’s a rather nice bottle of Heaven Hill Bourbon, too. Everything we need for breakfast.

After Mike leaves, we settle in with a beer. It’s all Goose Island, obviously.

Mike suggested Kaiser Tiger, just a few minutes’ walk away, as an evening destination. Quite a pleasant walk, other than having to cross multiple lanes of traffic. The joys of being a pedestrian in the USA.

 
“Bacon, Sausage and Beer” is their slogan. Sounds good to me.

Not quite cavernous is how I would describe the interior. Large enough to feel sparsely populated by the couple of dozen customers. It seems very quiet for a Saturday night.

I order a Solemn Oath Double Snaggletooth. The strongest beer on the menu at 8.5%. I wonder why I chose that?

As you might have guessed from their slogan, they’re big on meat products here. Derek orders a wild boar sausage. Not being hungry, I order nowt.

The Vienna Lager Derek orders looks weird. Sludgy and far too pale. Very unappetising.

“Is this really Vienna Lager?” Derek asks the waiter.

“Yes.” He even checks with the barman.

“Doesn’t look anything like a Vienna to me.” I say in support.

The waiter is happy to change it for another beer. Derek had a lucky escape there. I wouldn’t want to have drunk that. It looked sludgy in a bad way. (If there is a good way.)

We don't stay out too late. I watch the last 15 minutes of Saturday Night Live. While the Heaven Hill warms my soul.



Bangers & Lace Wicker Park
1670 W Division St,
Chicago,
IL 60622.
http://bangersandlace.com/



Kaiser Tiger
1415 W Randolph St,
Chicago,
IL 60607.
https://www.kaisertiger.com/ 

My flights were paid for by Goose Island and my accommodation by Chicago Brewseum.