Flying To Chitown

     Last Thursday, November 8, I flew from Columbus to Chicago to visit Miguel and Claire.

     This was my first time flying to Chicago.  In the past I'd always taken the wonderful Megabus,

...until, much to my dismay, Megabus dropped its Columbus-Chicago route.
    On Tom's and my previous visit to Chicago last May we tried traveling via Greyhound Bus, which turned out to be a vile experience (See post from 5/13/2018, "Greyhounding It To Chicago"). 
     As I hope to never again have to take a Greyhound bus, this now leaves us two options for traveling to Chicago: driving or flying. I once drove to Chicago by myself years ago and found driving in that city to be the first ring of Hades, the second ring being trying to find a parking spot anywhere on the streets of my daughter's urban neighborhood.     

    And so this time, as I was again traveling alone, I reluctantly opted for the pricier but oh-so-much quicker and more convenient flight option.
    Thus I started out the morning in my favorite airport, Columbus John Glen International, where one is still reminded at every turn that here in Columbus we are all One Of Us (see posts from 4/29/2018, "What's So Funny At The Columbus Airport" and 4/30/2018, "One Of Us! One Of Us!").

   As I had a little time to kill before my flight I had a breakfast of two bagels at the airport Bob Evans.

   Though I expect one bagel would have been sufficient for me, I bought two because when I attempted to buy one the server, whom I would guess form his accent to be from an African country, warned me that the bagels there were very small and advised me that if I wanted a big bagel I should go across the way to Starbucks. When I hesitated in my decision he became quite insistent about the insufficiency of a single Bob Evans bagel and the superiority of the Starbucks bagels. So I asked if I could have two bagels, to which agreed, finally seeming satisfied that this customer wouldn't go hungry, which, in fact, I didn't.

    Then, more than satiated after my two-bagel breakfast, I boarded my plane. 56 minutes after take-off I deplaned at Chicago O'Hare.

   Having insisted that I did not wish to be picked up at the airport by my daughter or son-in-law, but preferred to find my way to their house via public transport, I followed the signs through the airport to the trains to downtown,

​...then joined my fellow passengers,

...until I de-trained at the Western Avenue stop at Logan Square.

   I then walked several blocks through the neighborhood,

...until I reached their house,

...where I was greeted by Miguel, who was quite relieved that his mother-in-law had found her way from O'Hare, and their three cats, Sassy, Siri,

​...and Tinums, a little cat,

...who was hanging around the school auditorium in Texas where the disaster response team Claire was part of after Hurricane Harvey had set up an emergency medical center.

     The  members of Claire's medical team called the orphaned cat Rosie, but after Claire brought the cat home with her from Texas she and Miguel changed the kitty's name to Tinums because she was so tiny. (But isn't anymore).

    After I settled into my cozy guest room, 

...Miguel suggested that he and I - Claire was at work -  drive over to an awesome little Italian Deli he knew of called Bari's to get a couple of their famous subs for lunch.

   Bari's was in a cute, traditionally Italian neighborhood.

     Inside there was a line of people with the same idea as us waiting at the deli counter.

    After we procured our subs - I ordered a veggie sub with eggplant, which was quite delicioso -  I suggested we pop into the bakery next door.

...where we found all kinds of yummy-looking things.

    I snagged one of these vanilla-iced squares, which turned out to be a square - but none the less delicious - piece of cherry pie.

    We also picked up a loaf of bread,

​...then headed back home.

     I love Chicago.