At 4:30 am the train pulled into Chicago’s Union Station, fourteen hours late, meaning an unexpected and weary day in Chicago until the next train east at 9:30 pm. Not surprisingly, my traveling companion and I were exhausted and uncomfortable. We had been assured for more than ten hours that Amtrak would put us up in a hotel and rebook our travel home. Being hyper vigilant about bed bugs I always check the online Bed Bug Registry prior to booking accommodations. Blurry-eyed (without enough reading glasses to read everything on my cell-phone screen), very hungry (I ran out of food around seventeen hours prior), and grumpy to my core, I scanned bed bug reports and, sure enough, the hotel we had been comped had fourteen bug alerts. I start Googling the hotels that showed zero reports and they were all fully booked.
My companion was equally exhausted, but less concerned about bed bug contamination than I was so we were at odds. Finally I proclaimed that she could go to the hotel without any luggage (she didn't), but that I was going to stay at the station and wait the forty-five minutes until the lounge for sleeping-car travelers opened up. I felt like I was on a camping trip where it starts pouring, the tent leaks, and you’re having car problems….you are so uncomfortable you just want it to all go away (especially since the expectation was that we would be spending a whole night (instead of a partial morning) in a comfortable hotel bed (sans bugs). Expectations mixed with no sleep and low-blood-sugar made for tender and trigger-cranky emotions.
My companion decided to fly home due to work commitments (our new scheduled arrival home was a minimum 24-hours later than originally planned.) My day had grim prospects. I thought likely I would spend it curled up on a stained, lumpy love seat in the windowless lounge room of Union Station, dozing on and off, hopefully not visibly drooling. I didn’t have motivation for much else, but the love seat was less than appealing, so I mustered my last shred of energy and headed off to Whole Foods, not far from the train station. This was slow-shopping in the extreme. My daze was reminiscent of how I used to feel after working a twelve-hour shift all night at the hospital. I was working hard at concentrating and was slightly aware that I looked like someone on drugs or newly homeless (after three and a half days on a train from California I was doing a good imitation). Then I slowed down even more when I realized I had nothing to do for twelve hours. S-l-o-w shopping. If my companion had stayed she would have killed me.
After stocking for two more full days of travel, I settled into the cafe area and ate, which fortified me enough to think about spending my day outside of the station.
I knew I would be a horrible companion in that I needed every ounce of reserve to function and couldn’t expend any on niceties or social interaction, so I did not contact the handful of people I know in Chicago. It was sunny, with a slight breeze and perfect temp, so off I went to explore. Since not all my cylinders were firing, I took a water taxi to Navy Pier, where I boarded a larger boat for an architectural tour of Chicago. This was the perfect solution for the worn-down traveler: I was sitting outside, soaking in the sun, but learning things about the “windy” city: the bridge designs are from Paris, the Sears Tower (now the Willis Tower) can sway three feet in any direction at upper stories; and, the Haymarket Riot, a tragic event in labor history resulting in the hanging of union organizers, took place in downtown Chicago.
After the informative and, for me, therapeutic boat ride, I wandered around the shoreline and city beach, then made my way towards a day spa where I had booked a massage. Exploring the neighborhoods on the way, I stumbled onto Local Root, a local-foods restaurant with indoor and outdoor seating in the Streeterville neighborhood of the city. I had plenty of time before my appointment, so I savored a full, fresh meal for the first time in four days. While vegetarians will find a number of things to eat, the menu is heavy on meat and fish. My salad of local greens and pickled onions was delicious (the pickled onions were especially good) and went well with my perfectly cooked grass-fed burger. Chicago’s tap water tastes heavily of chlorine and has other known contaminants in it, so I would recommend ordering bottled water (although I would rather see restaurants doing their own in-house filtration of tap water).
Next stop on my grim-day-turned-fabulous, was the Allyu Spa located along the Riverwalk in the River North area. The large, airy, Buddhist-inspired day spa offers a range of massage and spa therapies as well as a far-infrared sauna. There is a meditation/relaxation sanctuary where you can wait before and after your therapy, as well as outside seating along the river. From start to finish Allyu was what this weary traveler needed.
The sad love seat where I might have spent my day was still at the train station when I returned, waiting for some other desperate traveler. My message to them—you have options.
Full Disclosure: no businesses listed here had any knowledge that I would be writing about them and provided zero comp benefits.
Sunday, June 28, 2015
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