Chapter 8: The Chicago Blues

At some point on the two-hour drive into Chicago I had drank enough beer to necessitate the use of the pee funnel for the first time. After the laughter ebbed, I stood up in the stairwell and scowled at the Chicago skyline to the west. It all seemed grey to me, the sky, the buildings, the fate of millions of souls bound together in such proximity. When the bus pulled off the highway at the exit for the University of Illinois at Chicago, the abundance of neon lights made things much more colorful, and all the hype about the Chicago Blues started to make more sense. The sidewalks were crowded with young people headed in all directions. Big groups, small groups, pretty girls, hot guys, black people, white people, Asian people, crazy people, you name it. This was clearly a multicultural hub with an  ...