Friday afternoon Mr. Leege and company rolled into Dodge. I met Brad’s cousin Greg down at Goose Island for a pint. We rendezvoused with Brad and Carole up at the homestead and then it was off to Base at the Hard Rock Hotel for a little Butch Walker. Greg follows Butch around which is quite a feat considering Butch never travels much farther west than Minneapolis and Greg lives in Seattle. The show was great and our timing was fabulous. Walking back up Michigan, we made a late-night pizza stop before heading home.
Saturday morning all of us took a stroll through Millennium Park, then hit Russian Tea Time for lunch. After stuffing ourselves on Pelmeni, Stroganoff, and the Russian Combo Platter for the 1st People’s Army Division we made a brief stop at the Mac Store, headed home to primp, and then left for the proper Butch Walker concert at The Abbey. The tickets had the wrong time stamped on them, so we ended up waiting in line for about an hour-and-a-half before the doors opened. First row balcony. The show was great - I hadn’t seen him with a live band before.
After the show, we descended on White Castle for some gastronomic horror that can only be called: The Crave Case. 30 White Castle Cheeseburgers. Five of them would kill your average child or small woman. Despite the heroic efforts of Brad and Greg (who ate about eight each), Carole and I managed about five each and couldn’t stomach anymore.
About two hours after getting home, Greg and I were on the road to catch his early morning flight out of Midway. The drive back was a stunning sunrise over the lake and downtown bathed in soft orange light. After a nap, Brad, Carole and I walked up the street to the Golden Angel. After Brad Carole headed back to Madtown, I drove up north to Julia and Adams for a barbecue. Tudor grilled up some mean meat and corn. Nicole, Micah, Jenie, Tudor, were there and Sara, who was finally back from Europe - the first time I’d seen her since. We’d been e-mailing back and forth the whole summer, but it was awkward.